The Music Makers
by Sabine101
Summary: Kira during the resistance. (some *slash* themes)


Y'bbuth l'Nerys  
copywright Zayin Miko; 2338  
  
Deykn ju'jeli, ju'jeli ko;  
lerat loraya ker stulo.  
Deykn ziv a deykn pagh  
Ul lit's'Bajor ko jaya.  
  
Nerys y'bbuth mit ju'ora  
Nerys anak'va  
Nerys y'bbuth mit ju'ora  
Nerys anak pagh.  
  
L'stera atah ju'reyar,  
per ychem sera ybdilar.  
Per ychem sera ul'nerys.  
Iz'pa pa'er serar pa'eys.  
  
  
Song For Tomorrow  
(literal translation:)  
  
Soldiers travelling; they're travelling.  
The people don't know their struggle.  
Soldiers live with soldier's souls  
At the end of the world they die.  
  
Tomorrow's song we're singing;  
Tomorrow we fear.  
Tomorrow's song we're singing;  
Tomorrow fears our souls.  
  
Yesterday I was fighting  
and I buried my heart in drink  
and I buried my heart in tomorrow.  
Before it's over your heart will be lost.  
  
  
THE MUSIC MAKERS  
  
Family Kira  
  
Kira Regat (2310-2346) m. Zam Taban (2303-2363)  
begat  
Kira Onep (2334-2354)  
Kira Miko (2340-2354)  
Kira Nerys (2343- )  
  
_Deep Space Nine, 2374_  
  
The buzzer hailed, and Kira answered the door. Keiko O'Brien stood in   
the hall, beaming, her eyes shining with the glow of  
the maternal. She seemed to warm the hall around her.  
  
"Nerys!" she smiled, stepping over the threshold to embrace the Major.  
  
"Welcome home, Keiko," Kira returned the smile. "Come in."  
  
"Nope. I have a surprise for you, Major, but we have to go to one of   
the holosuites to see it," Keiko winked, and started  
down the corridor, a puzzled Kira in tow.  
  
"Computer," Keiko said, when they reached the holosuites that   
encircled the Promenade's second story. "Is program O'Brien  
K-one still running?"  
  
"Program O'Brien K-one is currently in progress," the computer   
agreed. "Enter when ready."  
  
Keiko squeezed Kira's hand and the door to the room rolled back. The   
two women stepped forward into fragrant summer wind.  
  
_Bajor, Singha Refugee Camp, Dakhur Province, 2343_  
  
"Nep, please, sit still," Taban said again, pressing a hand to his   
son's shoulder. "Are you okay, my love?" he addressed  
his wife.  
  
Regat was perched on the edge of the bed, her head in her hands. "I'm   
fine," she said, with some effort. "It'll pass. I  
promise."  
  
Miko scrabbled up onto the bed and tried to crawl into his mother's   
lap. She brushed him aside without looking up.  
  
"Ma's sick, Mik," Onep managed a stage whisper. Miko leaped off the   
bed and joined his brother and father, standing vigil  
over the writhing Regat. She groaned, and lapsed into another fit of   
sneezing, her eyes bulging.  
  
"That's it. I'm getting help," Taban said, squeezing Onep's hand.   
"You're in charge 'till I get back."  
  
"Want me to go?" Onep blinked big gray eyes up at his father's creased face.   
Taban smiled, nodding.   
  
"Yes, yes, that would be very helpful, Nep,   
thank you," he ruffled Onep's hair. "Do you know where Vedek Ystral   
lives?"  
  
Onep nodded. "Be right back," he said.  
  
Regat collapsed on her side, curling herself into a ball as much as   
was possible with her distended midsection. Her eyes  
were squeezed shut, and she dug her nails into her palm. Taban rushed   
to her side, mopped her brow and whispered. "It's  
okay, my love, it's okay. Onep's getting help." Regat just writhed.  
  
Miko watched suspiciously, not daring to approach.  
  
"It's not time," Regat managed. "It's not..."  
  
Taban shushed her, stroking her hair. "Don't try to talk," he said.  
  
"I'll talk if I want to!" she snapped, the strength in her voice   
bringing a smile back to Taban's face. "Miko, come here,"  
she held out a hand, her other arm pressed across her aching chest.   
Miko crept toward it, wondering what he had done wrong.  
"Do you know what's happening to me?" Regat demanded. Miko shook his   
head. "I need a doctor," Regat said, "and I'm not  
going to get one. Do you know why?" Miko shook his head again,   
cowering a little. "Because the Cardassians don't consider  
medical supplies a necessary part of our rations. Because the   
Cardassians figure if we're sick, we'd be better off dead  
then in their way. Because the Cardassians don't give two damns about   
us if they're not shooting us, fucking us, or glaring  
in our general direction!" Regat spat the last words, sneezed   
violently, and clenched her hands to her sides again, hugging  
herself and moaning.  
  
Taban reached out for Miko, hugged him close. "Don't worry," he   
whispered. "Your Ma's gonna be just fine."  
  
Miko shivered in the small room. "Okay," he said. "Okay."  
  
Onep blustered in, Vedek Ystral right behind him. She ushered him to   
the corner of the room, sent Taban and Miko to sit on  
the bench beside the table. "There," she said, swiping her hands   
against one another. "Now, how are you feeling, Mrs.  
Kira?"  
  
Regat hissed and rolled over onto her back, spread-eagled across the   
bed and panting.  
  
"Just take some deep breaths," the Vedek said. "Meditate."  
  
Regat seemed to relax a bit, sneezed once and let her limbs fall   
slack into the mattress.  
  
"That's better," the Vedek said. "Now, you boys go wait in the hall.   
We don't need any more complications here. I promise  
to take good care of her," she added, noting Taban's concerned   
expression. Sighing, he led the boys from the room and let  
the door click shut behind him.  
  
Hours passed; they felt like weeks. Taban kept a sweaty palm clamped   
on the arm of each of his sons, alternately kissing  
them and clutching them toward him like talismen.  
  
Finally, Ystral emerged from the apartment, her hands dripping blood.   
She wiped them on her trousers before speaking.  
"She's fine. Tired as hell, but she'll be okay," she smiled at Taban.   
"And, it's a girl."  
  
Nearly whooping for joy, Taban and the children breezed past the   
Vedek, shouting thanks, and hustled into the apartment to  
join Regat and her new daughter.  
  
_Bajor, Singha Refugee Camp, Dakhur Province, 2346_  
  
"Do we have to share it with the baby?" Miko whined, scurrying to   
catch up with his brother.  
  
"Stop calling her 'the baby,'" Onep paused in the road. "She has a name."  
  
"What kind of a name is Nerys, anyway?" Miko raised a hand to shield   
his eyes from the sun as the two boys walked the  
gravel path toward Singha's gates. "It's a boy's name."  
  
Onep sighed. "It's not a boy's name. It means 'tomorrow' in the old   
language, and Ma liked it. And, yes, we have to share  
the riztan with Nerys."  
  
"Fa thinks it's a boy's name," Miko challenged.  
  
"Just shut up, Miko. Stop bothering me," Onep began taking longer   
strides, leaving his brother behind.  
  
"He does," Miko muttered, running after Onep. "He wanted to call her   
Herrin. He told me."  
  
"Okay," Onep sighed again. "Fine. Let's just go home."  
  
//We've been going home all along,// Miko shook his head, tripping   
down the road beside his brother, leaping and skipping  
to match Onep's wide gait. //Onep can be so weird sometimes...//  
  
They reached the barracks and Onep dug out his keycard to open the   
door. Inside, Ronen Ilik was doing laundry, and he  
smiled at the boys as they entered.  
  
"Riztan," he commented, noting the bottle of fizzy juice Onep was   
carrying. "Where'd you boys find that?"  
  
"There's a lady in the Tibel-Kari who gets it from Rokantha," Miko   
grinned. "She brings us some and we oil their skimmers  
for 'em."  
  
"Sounds like a fair trade to me," Ilik winked at Onep. "Tell your ma   
if she's got any clothes need washing to bring 'em  
down tonight; we won't get soap again for some weeks now."  
  
"Thanks," Onep said. "I'll tell her." He nodded farewell to the   
launderer and started down the corridor to their  
apartments.  
  
Taban was feeding the baby when they arrived. "Hey Fa," Onep smiled,   
peeling off his sweaty jacket and setting the bottle  
of riztan carefully on the table. "How's Nerys? She talking yet?"  
  
Taban waved a hand at his sons, never looking up from Nerys and her   
bottle. //Of course she's not talking yet,// Onep  
sighed. //That girl is never going to talk. Ma says I was saying   
whole sentences at her age, and Miko was pretty chatty at  
one himself. Well, makes sense. There's not much to say around here, I guess.//  
  
"We got riztan!"Miko shouted gleefully.  
  
Taban whirled around, took in Miko's wide smile, so like his   
mother's, his wild dark eyes. "You're not messing with those  
Tibel-Kari folk again, are you?"  
  
Onep looked at the floor. Miko cowered.  
  
"I told you boys to stay away from them; it's too dangerous for you.   
Promise me you won't go near them again!" Taban was  
shaking, furious.  
  
"I promise," Onep muttered.  
  
"But why, Fa?" Miko whined. "Ziza's real nice, and lots of kids help   
the soldiers out with stuff."  
  
"I don't care how nice Ziza is," Taban had regained his composure,   
and was staring Miko down. "I don't care if you're  
working for Tibel Lio herself. The resistance is too dangerous; it's   
nothing for children to meddle in."  
  
"Okay..." Miko didn't sound convinced.  
  
"Ilik says to bring laundry today," Onep changed the subject. "Says   
we won't have soap for another couple weeks."  
  
"Okay," Taban nodded, "there's some stuff on the floor by the door;   
bring it down to him when you go out. And take him a  
couple of those lero melons we got too; I'll bet Ilik doesn't get his   
hands on fresh fruit too often."  
  
"Sure, Fa," Onep said, and he shuffled over to his bed to change   
clothes. Miko sidled up beside him.  
  
"What's wrong with the resistance?" he whispered, freeing his head   
from his shirt and tossing it into the laundry pile.  
  
"They fight too much, Fa says," Onep explained. "They're making the   
spoonheads even more angry with us, so they hurt us  
more. Like taking away our soap, or shutting down the waste disposal units."  
  
"But the spoonheads are the bad guys, right?" Miko struggled to   
understand. "So if the resistance is fighting the  
spoonheads, that's good!"  
  
"Sometimes fighting is good," Onep agreed, lowering his voice. "But   
not when it makes the spoonheads take out their anger  
on the civilians - that's us."  
  
"I want to be in the resistance when I grow up," Miko said decidedly.   
Onep shook his head.  
  
"Hopefully there won't be any more resistance when you grow up," he   
ruffled his brother's hair. "Hopefully the spoonheads  
will be gone by then, or we'll have worked out a way to live together here."  
  
"Live together here! No way," Miko said. "This is Bajor; we're   
Bajoran; they're not! They have their own world to go to!"  
  
Onep gathered up the laundry in a mesh bag and slung it over his   
shoulder. Leaving his brother to muse, he started for the  
door. "Where's ma?" he called to his father, palming a couple of the   
lero and tossing them in the laundry bag.  
  
"At work," Taban said. "She'll be home soon, and she'll be hungry, so   
you should come home and help me make dinner."  
  
"Sure," Onep smiled, and headed for the laundromat.  
  
_Bajor, Singha Camp, 2346_  
  
"Ma's not eating tonight?" Onep nodded suspiciously at the three   
placesettings his father had set at the table.  
  
"She...ate earlier, when she fed Nerys," Taban didn't meet his son's eye.  
  
Miko was sitting at the table, swinging his legs, and Taban slid onto   
the bench beside him. Onep hesistated. "Really,"  
Taban said. "Please, Nep, sit down."  
  
"She hasn't been home for dinner all week," Onep licked his lips. "Is   
she mad at us?"  
  
"No," Taban said abruptly. "Your mother loves you very much. Very,   
very much. Now, sit down and eat."  
  
Onep sat down reluctantly, pushed the few wilted vegetables on his   
plate around with a fork.  
  
******  
  
It was a cool room; it was a good day. It was the height of summer, but  
the air circulators in the basement offices hissed full-blast, and Regat  
found herself, for the first time in weeks, underdressed for the  
climate. And she was loving it. It was a hateful place; it was a hateful  
time. It was war and oppression and the stink of rotting, sweaty bodies  
that was always there, lingering, painting rings around the edges of the  
sterile basement office. It was blood, and starvation, and the hottest  
summer in years, decades. It was a time of drought, the lakes sucking  
inward from the bone-dry rocks of shore. It was a time forsaken by the  
prophets, a time of mortals hands bloodied from weapons or slave labor,  
a time of many, many more deaths than births. But it was a cool room,  
and it was a good day. She found a smile where she could.  
  
She was filing, which beat mine work a thousand times over, and she had  
to bite her tongue on more than one occasion to keep from whistling  
while she worked. It was enough for her not to be on her knees,  
whip-lashed, sweating, her lips and eyeballs cracking from dehydration;  
she felt no compulsion to let her overseers know that she was almost,  
*almost* enjoying herself. She punched in the next access code on her  
list, began separating files into subdirectories.  
  
"Who's got 299-blue through 400?" the Bajoran man at the console beside  
her, Yzak, addressed Regat and the other four workers.  
  
"I just input the last batch of them now," Regat replied. "I'm in the  
tertiary database in the blue filemanager. Do you need me to find  
something?"  
  
"I've got a file which crossreferences something in blue, and Gul  
Namerov wants a hyperlink. Can you upload the directory name to my  
console so I can do a search for it?" Even Yzak's voice sounded chipper  
today; last time Regat had worked beside him they'd been digging  
waste-disposal ditches, and he'd barely uttered two words except to ask  
her to pass the water canteen. Yes, it was a good day.  
  
"On their way," she said, inputting his server name and transferring the  
file codes to his console.  
  
There was only one supervisor on duty, a Glin-something-or-other, and he  
was sitting crosslegged at the desk, reading, not particularly  
interested in the parley among the slaves. Chatting while they worked  
was another luxury not to come again in the near future, and the  
Bajorans were taking advantage of it.  
  
"Van Teprim finally gave birth," announced a stocky woman at one of the  
wall consoles.  
  
"Amazing," laughed Regat. "I was beginning to think that baby would  
never come out. It's been, what, eight months?"  
  
"It's a boy," the woman, Maiaya, said with a grin. "An adorable little  
gift from the Prophets. She's calling him Nerys."  
  
"Really?" Regat chuckled. "That's my daughter's name! I know it's a  
boy's name, but 'tomorrow' just seemed like the perfect choice for a  
name for the new generation."  
  
"That's what Teprim said," Maiaya nodded, chewing her lip as she sorted  
files. "I think it's pretty. How old is your daughter?"  
  
"She'll be three in half a moon," Regat said. "She's not talking yet. My  
husband and I are beginning to wonder if we should be concerned."  
  
Maiaya cast a glance in the direction of the supervisor and shook her  
head, a small enough movement as to be nearly imperceptible. "No," she  
said abruptly. "I wouldn't worry." Regat was sure this wasn't what  
Maiaya had intended to say, and the room felt just a bit colder as she  
returned her focus to the filing in front of her.  
  
Something beeped. And beeped again.  
  
The six Bajorans looked up in unison, trying to locate the source of the  
noise, and the supervisor, upon reading something on his console, stood.  
Regat shuddered despite herself.  
  
"Aily Maiaya, Kira Regat, Masa Tzo," he announced without preamble. The  
three women in question stood still, waiting for further instructions.  
  
"Report to launching area five in Singha proper," he continued. "Your  
assignments have been changed."  
  
//Okay,// thought Regat, preparing herself mentally for the heat of the  
outdoors. //We're on plasma-unit repair. I've had worse jobs.//  
  
Following the guard who had been standing outside the door, the women  
started up the spiralling staircase of the sentry office.  
  
*  
  
That was the last time anyone saw Kira Regat alive. When she didn't come  
home from work that night, Taban, along with Aily Prem and Masa Jiaka,  
sent out a buzz across the Singha camp to begin a search for their  
missing wives. A week passed, then two, with the men no more enlightened  
then they'd been that first summer night. Nerys and Miko didn't quite  
understand, but Onep, along with Masa's daughter Laren, understood that  
their mothers were dead by Cardassian hands, despite Taban and Jiaka's  
attempts to construct plausible stories to explain the disappearances.  
  
Autumn came but the heat wave never broke. One evening, Onep and Laren  
were working in the orchards when their overseer informed them that Gul  
Namerov himself wished to speak with them. Before he uttered the words,  
they knew.  
  
"I regret to inform you," he began in a low, thundering Dakhur dialect,  
heavily accented with the Kardasi hiss, "that I have received word from  
our shipbuilding facilities in orbit that Kira Regat and Masa Tzo have  
died. It seems that the Bajoran workers were unable to ration their food  
supply adequately, and I'm afraid your mothers starved to death before  
any of the overseers were able to procure more supplies. Please relay my  
apologies to your families."  
  
Onep nodded somberly, but Laren spat at the ground. Onep touched her  
shoulder.  
  
"I understand," Namerov continued. "You blame us. I assure you, the  
officers assigned to the shipbuilding facilities are committed to caring  
for their workers. Any problems the Bajorans may have had come from your  
own people's inability to cooperate. Again, however, I offer my sincere  
apologies for your loss."  
  
"Thank you," Onep managed, and, grabbing Laren's hand, he raced through  
the orchards to the barracks.  
  
*  
  
She hadn't seen daylight in what seemed like weeks. The tent was barely  
large enough for the three women, and they were forbidden to leave its  
walls unless summoned, so Regat found herself with a lot of time to  
contemplate her hatred. They took turns. One night, Regat would be  
summoned to the prefect's quarters, Maiaya the next, Tzo the next. And  
for each it was the same. The woman would report to the main building,  
escorted by the on-duty glin. Once inside, she would be asked to remove  
her clothing, and she would be washed thoroughly, head to toe, her hands  
clamped in place behind her while the Cardassian who was sponging her  
ogled her starved and bony form with something akin to disgust.  
Sufficiently cleansed and scented with vile Cardassian perfumes (which  
took days to dissipate, at which point it was time to be scrubbed  
again), she was led, naked and dripping, up the wide stone stairs to the  
prefect's quarters. He was always otherwise engaged -- reading, on a  
comcall, downloading files -- and he'd wave a hand at the woman, telling  
her to sit down on the bed, he'd be right with her. Between the scent of  
the perfume and the balmy-to-humid climate Cardassians seemed to prefer,  
she'd sit, nearly suffocating, goosebumps rising on her exposed flesh.  
Waiting. And then the prefect would finally complete his task -- she was  
always surprised, and furious, to realize that she'd actually been  
*impatient,* waiting -- and start towards her with grin playing at his  
mouth. "Well," he'd say, without fail, "what shall we do tonight?" And  
it was always the same.  
  
Afterward, bruised, sore and bitten, her hips so strained that it hurt  
to walk, she was led downstairs, her insect-ridden garment returned to  
her, and she was tossed back into the tent with the other women, to  
await her turn again.  
  
They didn't even know what province they were in.  
  
After the first week, the women didn't talk much; they'd run out of  
things to say. Maiaya had no children, and Tzo and Regat had stopped  
speaking of theirs; it hurt too much. Once in a while they'd bring up  
the resistance, speculate on what the brave Bajoran soldiers were up to  
that would finally liberate this world, but the words were hollow and  
they knew it. Regat wanted to believe it, but she knew, had known since  
she named her daughter 'Nerys' that it was tomorrow's generation who  
would liberate their world, not Regat's own. It was too late for her,  
but the new generation, the children who were being taken in by the new  
resistance cels that were forming had a chance at living in peace, and  
having their world back. But not until then. Not for years.  
  
They never spoke of their spouses -- Tzo and Regat's husbands, Maiaya's  
wife, left back in Singha -- somehow, that brought it all into focus,  
made the separation too final, and the horrible violations the prefect  
was performing on them nightly, too real. Regat prayed to Taban,  
sometimes, begging him to take care of the children, and to forgive her  
for abandoning them, but when she was lying in bed under the prefect's  
heavy, armored frame, she would talk to herself, talk herself to  
distraction to avoid letting her mind touch on Taban, alone in the bed  
they used to share. It wasn't the same. It wasn't the same. What Regat  
did in the prefect's quarters was no different from any other job she'd  
held under the mercy of Cardassian overseers; it was a job. And she did  
it. And she never, never let herself think about what this man was doing  
to her, how he was mining her like blasted stone from the inside. Never.  
And the women never spoke of it.  
  
Sometimes Maiaya would sing -- battle hymns, generally -- and Tzo and  
Regat, both with tin ears, would listen solemnly, unsmiling, as if the  
lyrics in the ancient tongue were some code that, if they could only  
crack it, would spell their freedom. In an effort to keep them "shapely"  
(the glin's words), they were fed quite well, but the food was  
Cardassian, pasty and bland, and the women could barely stomach it. Tzo  
would eat, and Regat and Maiaya would offer her their leftovers, in the  
hopes that the prefect would take a liking to her "shapely" form and  
perhaps give her better treatment. But she would come home from her  
encounters as bruised as the other two, and tell the same story they'd  
each been telling, every night.  
  
It must have been early winter when the on-duty glin came to collect  
Regat for the second night in a row. "He asked for you again," the glin  
explained. Casting a terrified glance at her compatriots, Kira Regat  
exited out into the foreign-familiar Bajoran night.  
  
After the scrubdown, Regat started for the stairs, knowing the drill by  
rote, wanting desperately for it to be over with. "Not yet," the glin  
said, clapping a hand on her shoulder and stopping her in her tracks. He  
steered her back into the atrium where she'd been bathed, and slid open  
the door to a shiny alloy cabinet. From it, he drew a plaited, wooly  
bundle, which he pressed against Regat's damp breast. "Put it on," he  
said. "Legate's orders."  
  
She shook it out, and saw that it was a robe, cableknit from some  
luxurious wool and belted at the waist with a wide ribbon. She slid her  
arms into the sleeves, thankful for the protection from the dank air and  
scrutinous eyes. Warm and shivering, she blinked up at the glin,  
awaiting instruction. "Go on up," he said. "You know the way."  
  
//Alone?// she didn't say, but instead turned on her heel and started  
for the stairs.  
  
When she opened the door to the prefect's quarters, he was waiting for  
her. *He* was waiting for *her*. He was seated on the bed, crosslegged,  
with a tray of fruit and a bottle of spring wine -- spring wine! --  
beside him. And he smiled when she walked in. At first she thought she  
was dead, and was dismayed at the cruel joke the prophets were playing,  
but the ache in her groin and the teethmarks across her arms and neck  
reminded her that she was very much alive. Her world was growing more  
bizarre by the moment, but she was very much alive.  
  
"Hello, my dear," the legate cooed. "Please, sit down."  
  
Unable to formulate a good reason not to, she complied. "Yes, sir."  
  
"Please," he said. "Call me Dukat."  
  
"Yes, Legate Dukat," she said, furrowing her brow.  
  
"Dukat," he said with a grin. "Just Dukat."  
  
She merely nodded, petrified. //I should slap him,// she thought, //spit  
in his face, holler to the Prophets for vengeance against all he's done  
to us.// Hating herself for her cowardace, willing herself to feel some  
instinct other than self-preservation, she sat stock still and waited to  
see how this would play out.  
  
"Have some wine," he said, pouring a glass and holding it out to her.  
  
//Yes. Have some wine. Dull the pain.// Nodding again, she took the  
glass from him, downed the strong alcohol in one gulp.  
  
"Tell me about yourself," he said, refilling her glass. "Tell me about  
your family."  
  
"They're slaves!" she said before she could catch herself, but Dukat  
merely shook his head and smiled knowingly.  
  
"Personally," he said, "I despise the actions that Gul Namerov has taken  
in the Singha facility. Shall I have him replaced?"  
  
"He beats people at random; every month he declares what he calls a  
'holiday,' where five innocent people get executed in public. If those  
are grounds for dismissal in this tyrannical culture of yours, I'd say  
replace him," she said, her tongue loosened by the wine and Dukat's  
apparent sympathy.  
  
"That's terrible," he said. "That is no way to train workers who are  
under your command. He should be nurturing you, helping you learn, and  
grow. I have no taste for violence," Dukat clicked his tongue.  
  
"But you have no problem with fucking us twice a week!" Regat spat  
before she could stop herself; Dukat's syrupy words cut her to the bone.  
Regretting the outburst immediately, she searched Dukat's face for signs  
of response.  
  
At first it looked like he would strike her, but then his face fell, and  
he looked at the floor. "I regret that," he said. "I'm sorry."  
  
"What's going to happen to them?" she asked. "Maiaya and Tzo. I imagine  
I'm to stay here with you." She hadn't made that leap until the words  
were out of her mouth, but as soon as she uttered them she knew they  
were true. She was to be Dukat's consort; he had chosen her. She  
supposed she should be flattered, but hate and bile rose in her throat.  
  
"They will be returned to Singha as soon as I can arrange for transport.  
And, yes, you're correct. I'd like for you to live here in headquarters  
with me; it must have been *anguish* living in that wretched tent all  
these weeks."  
  
"So why did you order us to live out there?" she asked.  
  
"I had to!" Dukat lost control for a moment, tossing his head, his onyx  
hair swinging wildly around his face. "Don't you understand? I'm the  
Prefect of this annex! I am in charge of the entire Bajoran project! I  
had to set a strong example! Half my men are older than I am; I had to  
prove to them that I was to be respected as a leader!" He slammed his  
fists into his thighs and refused to meet Regat's gaze. "But I was  
wrong. I know that now. A good leader is respected for his powerful  
mind, not his 'tyrannical' actions, as you so aptly put it. I am an  
intelligent man. A great man. I am the youngest member of the Cardassian  
military ever to be risen to the rank of Legate, and I am a credit to my  
title! Centuries from now, when this world takes its stand as a strong  
and powerful part of the great Cardassian Empire, people will remember  
the name Dukat as the man who began it all. And do you know why?" Dukat  
looked to Regat, not really expecting an answer. There was a long pause,  
and Regat tried to take in what Dukat was saying. But his next words  
shocked her. "Because...I love Bajor."  
  
"What?" she asked, leaning over to try and catch a glimpse of his face  
as he stared at the floor.  
  
"I do," he said, attempting a laugh which stumbled over the lump in his  
throat. "At first, it was just a job. Central Command sends me out here  
and says: 'annex!' But this is a beautiful world; your people are so  
good, and simple, and kind...under our tutelage, you could learn to  
become great, as we have. That's all I want; all I've ever wanted. For  
our two peoples to coexist peaceably."  
  
And, for a moment, Regat understood. //They want to be more like *us*.  
They can be enlightened by our peace, our spirituality and wisdom, just  
as they believe we can be enlightened by their power and strength.// For  
a moment, it all made sense; the occupation, the resistance, the  
Cardassian brutality and slaughter. While she couldn't forgive Dukat for  
what his people were doing to her world, she understood that it was the  
Prophets' will, to teach the misguided Cardassian race a little of what  
the Bajorans already understood about peace, and faith, and love. And  
she was to be their emissary. For a moment, it all made sense, hanging  
above the bed, above the two of them, shimmering in its crystalline  
perfection. It was the truth; the awful, horrible, genocidal truth. And  
a moment was all it took.  
  
Regat reached out and touched Dukat's shoulder, gently. "I understand,"  
she said.  
  
Dukat looked up, his face wrought with pain. "You do?" he whispered.  
"You forgive me?"  
  
"No," she said. "I don't forgive you. But the Prophets will save your  
soul. I can help you."  
  
Dukat reached out, slowly, and traced a finger across Regat's face, the  
touch so unlike the violent attacks of the previous weeks that Regat  
shuddered. "Thank you," he said.  
  
He pulled her head toward his, gently. "Maiaya taught me this," he  
whispered, touching the corner of her mouth with his exploring finger.  
"She was drunk; I think she threw *me* down that night. She used to  
struggle, and fight; the other one -- Tzo? -- used to scream, to let out  
these uncanny high-pitched wails. Only you were resigned, were at peace.  
I could see the faith in you, and the confidence that everything would  
someday come right. I respect you for that. But Maiaya did teach me one  
thing about Bajoran custom, and I thank her for that..." So saying, he  
tipped his head and closed his eyes and pressed his lips to Regat's,  
letting their tongues taste one another, their moist mouths move  
together.  
  
Regat sighed, the tenderness of the kiss more moving than she'd  
expected. She weakened, and allowed herself to fall into Dukat's  
embrace. //Prophets, grant me the courage to help this lonely,  
misunderstood man....// she thought. And somewhere, on that winter  
night, the Prophets heard.  
  
_Bajor, Singha Camp, 2351_  
  
"You're pretty good, kid!" Masa Laren grinned, slapping Nerys on the   
back. "Pretty soon you're gonna surpass your brother  
here; I suggest you start playing against *me* if you want a worthy opponent."  
  
Nerys looked at Onep, all lanky height and hair so dark it was almost   
black, long enough to tuck behind his ears. His eyes  
never wavered from Laren's face. //He gets so moony around her,//   
Nerys thought. //No wonder he doesn't play well when  
she's around. If that's what being in love does to you then I'm never   
gonna do it.// "Wanna serve?" she asked, holding out  
the ball to her brother.  
  
"Laren's right," he said. "Play a couple rounds with her; I'll   
watch." He sat crosslegged on the ground and smiled as Nerys  
sent the ball hurtling against the barracks' wall, and Laren leaped   
to complete the volley. A tap on his shoulder made him  
jump.  
  
"Lexa!" he shouted. "You scared me! What's up?"  
  
Orrin Lexa, Onep's closest friend save Laren, flopped down on the   
ground beside him. "What're you doing?" he asked.  
  
"Just watching my girlfriend teach my little sister the intricacies   
of defensive springball," Onep smiled. "You?"  
  
"There's a meeting of the Contra-Rebels at 2100 tonight," Lexa said.   
"Gul Ra'kul is going to speak. Can you come?"  
  
Onep eyed him suspiciously, then laughed. "Oh, sure. Sure, my fa will   
let me go sit in on a collaborator's meeting. I'm  
sure your parents are pleased as hell about it too."  
  
Lexa shook his head. "Not collaborators; Contra-Rebels. Come on, Nep, you don't   
like the resistance any more than I do;  
they've gotten Singha i   
nto more trouble this year than I want to think about. I mean,   
remember when the Cardassians used to  
bring us clothes every couple months? And soap? And remember when   
Bajorans had shops in the barracks square? We'd still  
have all that stuff if the resistance wasn't pissing the Cardassians   
off so much. The Contra-Rebels just want to end the  
fighting."  
  
Onep chewed a thumbnail. "I don't know," he said, finally. "Have you   
been to these meetings before?"  
  
"Yeah," Lexa said, surprising Onep. "A bunch of us go every couple   
weeks. But this is a big deal meeting, because we're  
trying to strike a deal with the Cardies so they won't blame civs for   
the militia's action. The more voices we can get to  
back us up, the better. You in?"  
  
Onep cast a look in Laren's direction.  
  
"Laren already said yes," Lexa said. "I asked her this morning."  
  
Looking from Lexa to Laren and back again, Onep nodded. "Okay," he   
said. "I'll come."  
  
"A ha!" Laren whooped. "Got ya!" Scooping a squirming Nerys up under   
one arm she rushed over to where Onep and Lexa were  
sitting, and collapsed on the ground beside them, breathless. Nerys   
broke free and flopped back on the grass, panting.  
  
"You won?" Onep winked at Laren.  
  
"Yeah," Laren said. "I was all set to let the kid win, but she's   
*damn* good. It was the best game I've played in months,  
and even so I only won by a couple points."  
  
"She's better than you are," Nerys smirked at Onep.  
  
"I'll bet," Onep said. Casting a glance at Nerys and leaning toward   
Laren, he lowered his voice. "Lexa says he talked to  
you?"  
  
"About the meeting?" Laren peeled a sweaty shock of hair from her   
brow. "Yeah. I'm gonna go. Are you?"  
  
"I think so," Onep said. "I feel weird about it, I feel like I'm   
working for the spoonheads or something."  
  
"You're working for peace," Laren said firmly. "You've got two   
younger siblings; I've got one and my mom's pregnant again;  
we want these kids," she gestured at Nerys, "to grow up without   
having to worry that they might never have fresh food  
again, or indoor heating, or that some guard might come and 'make and   
example out of them' and shoot them in the head in  
the middle of the square. Hell, we want 'em to be able to go to   
school on a regular basis - how long has it been since the  
schools closed? Months! The only way to fix that is to stop the   
resistance from making the Cardassians angrier than they  
already are."  
  
"Why are the Cardassians angrier?" Nerys asked, sitting up. Onep flushed.  
  
"All this fighting is making them madder at us," Onep said finally.  
  
"I don't know," Nerys said, gnawing her lip. "I talked to Miko, and   
he said that the Tibel-Kari have been doing really  
well. He thinks the resistance is going to get rid of the spoonheads   
by the end of the year."  
  
"Miko's too young to understand," Onep said.  
  
"So's Nerys," Laren whispered. Onep nodded, closing his eyes.  
  
"Well, I don't care who gets angry, as long as the spoonheads get out   
of here," Nerys concluded, leaping to her feet. "I'm  
going home, Nep. I'll see you at dinner."  
  
Watching her skip off, Onep pressed his fingers to his temples. //I   
hope they get out of here, too, Nerys...//  
  
*  
  
Nerys found her father outside in the rain. She sat beside him on the   
wet grass, pulling her shirt up over her head.  
  
"I do *not* condone this," he sighed, after a long silence. Nerys   
just watched him, knowing he'd explain what he was  
talking about if he felt like it. "That's not it at all. It's just   
that...oh, Nerys."  
  
Taban turned, took his daughter's face in his hands. "Are you going   
to stay with me, when they're both gone and I've got no  
one?"  
  
Nerys furrowed her brow, played with her bootlace, waiting for her   
father to start making sense.  
  
"I don't condone it, but, oh, Prophets, at least I know he's safe. I   
can't even believe I'm saying this - I always thought  
I believed in the resistance, but now? Maybe he's right," Taban shook his head.  
  
Nerys looked up. "Who, Fa? Maybe who's right?"  
  
"Onep," Taban sighed. "Your brother - my eldest son - Onep. He's joined the   
Contra-Rebels."   
  
"Yeah," Nerys said. "He doesn't like the r   
esistance."  
  
"Neither do I," Taban said. "Promise me you won't get yourself   
killed, Nerys. Promise me."  
  
Nerys cocked her head and peered at him, assessing. "Fa? Tell me about Ma."  
  
"Regat," Taban called out, more to himself - or to his wife - than to   
his daughter. "Your mother was a phenomenal woman,"  
he turned to Nerys. //Until the spoonheads started carving her up   
from the inside, screwing that beautiful face into  
something hard, and ugly, and militant.// "She was the strongest   
person I've ever met. You and Miko take after her; I can  
see her in your eyes." //All the hatred, all the passion, the same   
determination - oh, Nerys...she'd have been so proud of  
you.// "She'd have been very proud of you; of all of you."  
  
"I don't remember her," Nerys said, chewing a cuticle. "Miko says I   
look like her. Nep says Miko does."  
  
"Yes, you both do. It's the eyes, I think," Taban said again. "And   
her mouth. You definitely have her mouth." //And you'll  
inherit her sharp tongue along with it, or I miss my guess.// "Do you   
know what these are?" Taban pointed to a plot of  
orange flowers, swaying in the stormy breeze.  
  
Nerys shook her head. Taban stood up, and she followed him as they   
crossed and knelt beside the plant. "Music-makers," he  
said. "In the old language they were called ju'ora'talbiethe,   
'singers-in-the-storm.' Listen; I think it's windy enough for  
them to sing tonight." He leaned his head toward the ground and Nerys   
imitated him, her tiny frame shivering in the rain.  
The flowers seemed to whistle a melody; the longer she listened, the   
stronger it got, chords overlapping chords, moaning a  
somber requiem. She stood, shook her head, spattering rainwater.  
  
"Your mother used to say you kids reminded her of these," Taban said   
sullenly, eyes closed, listening. "Born in the winds  
of war, she said. That's when you'd sing your true song. When Miko   
showed interest in joining the resistance, even as a  
child, she was so proud of him. I never thought Onep..." he trailed   
off, shaking the cobwebs of memory from his mind. //He  
just wants peace,// he told Regat, somewhere. //That's all any of us   
want.// Even to him, the words sounded hollow. He  
stood, smiled sadly at Nerys.  
  
"Fa," Nerys said. "It's raining. Why are you sitting outside in the rain?"  
  
"It is raining, isn't it?" he looked up, his hair dripping down his   
face. "Let's go inside."  
  
He reached out and took her hand, and they ducked into the dryness of   
the barracks.  
  
_Bajor, Outside the Singha Camp, 2352_  
  
Ren Jakoma grunted, sweat beading on his brow. "One, two, three,   
now!" he said, lifting with all his weight. The unit  
didn't budge. "Miko, IÊthought you said we help them with little   
chores, they give us free food. This is not what I signed  
up for!"  
  
"This thing's fucking heavy," Miko agreed. "We need more help. Hey!   
Dina! Grab Ziza and help Ren and me lift this console!"  
  
The two women strode over, pushing up their sleeves. Taking places at   
alternate corners of the computer unit, they braced  
themselves. Miko counted again, and this time they lifted the unit a   
couple feet from the ground, shuffling awkwardly as  
they crossed the camp and deposited the computer next to the main sentry.  
  
"Now we've only gotta figure out how to connect this thing," Ziza   
laughed, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand.  
"Ren? Kira? Either of you kids trained in systems technology?"  
  
Miko and Jakoma shook their heads. "Didn't think so," she smiled. "Ah   
well. When Kari gets back he'll tell us what to do  
with it. Thanks for your help. There's tea and sandwiches inside the   
mess hall, if you're hungry."  
  
Waving their thanks, the boys rushed inside and joined the cafeteria line.  
  
"Kira Miko, by the Prophets!" Tibel Lio stepped to where the boys   
were standing. "Haven't seen you in a couple weeks! We  
missed you around here! Who's your friend?"  
  
"Ren Jakoma, Tibel Lio; Tibel Lio, Ren Jakoma," Miko introduced.  
  
"Are you as precocious as your companion here?" Tibel eyed Jakoma,   
cocking her head to one side. "Miko's been an incredible  
asset to this cel; I can't tell you how lucky we are that he's helped   
us out these past few years."  
  
A little nervous, Jakoma just nodded.  
  
"Hm," Tibel said, scratching her head. "Will you excuse us for a   
second?" Jakoma nodded again, and Tibel ushered Miko into  
a corner.  
  
"You said you wanted to join us when you were old enough," she said,   
fixing her eyes on his and placing a hand on his  
shoulder. "Do you still feel that way?"  
  
Miko nodded, not daring to speak. //Was she saying...//  
  
"Well, here's the thing. We're getting set to move out; that's why   
we're bringing in all the new sentry equipment, to  
maintain an uplink. The Shakaar cel will still be stationed in   
Dakhur, but we're moving up to Musulla as part of a big  
troop - " she stopped, furrowed her brow. "Are you in or what?"  
  
"I'm in," Miko said simply. "When do we leave?"  
  
Tibel swung her head from side to side gently, smiling. "I knew it.   
We leave at 0400 day after tomorrow. Will you be ready  
by then?"  
  
"I'll be ready," Miko said.  
  
"Excellent," Tibel said. "Be outside the gates and out of sight of   
searchlights, and someone will come by and get you in a  
cruiser."  
  
"Okay," Miko said. Tibel had turned and was starting to walk away,   
and Miko called out after her. "Thank you," he said. "I  
promise not to let you down."  
  
"Okay," she shrugged. "I won't hold you to that."  
  
And with that she turned and left the building.  
  
Jakoma, a sandwich in each hand, rushed to Miko's side. "What was   
that all about?" he asked.  
  
"She asked me to join them," Miko said, tasting the words on his   
tongue. "She asked me to be part of the Tibel-Kari."  
  
Ren gave his friend a sad look. "Be careful, Miko," he said.  
  
Miko stood silently a moment, then slugged Jakoma on the shoulder.   
"Gimme a sandwich," he said. "And let's go home."  
  
Chomping noisily, the boys stepped out into the bright sunlight and   
started back toward Singha.  
  
_Bajor, Singha Refugee Camp, 2354_  
  
"Hey, Fa," Nerys called, dropping her jacket on the floor and running   
into the apartment. "Where's Nep? He was supposed to  
meet me for springball an hour ago!"  
  
"Out here, Rys," Taban called, and Nerys crossed the room, opened the   
back door into her father's tiny rooftop garden. He  
was sitting on the stoop, Laren beside him, her eyes red.  
  
"Hi Laren," Nerys said. "What's up? Where's Onep? What's going on?"   
Laren glanced at Taban and bit her lip. "What? What is  
it?" Nerys demanded.  
  
Taban lay a hand on Laren's shoulder. "Onep is gone," he said. "He   
left this morning. He didn't even say goodbye - Laren  
found out from Glin Neyesh at work this morning."  
  
Laren bit her lip, vowing not to cry. "I didn't know he was so   
serious," she stammered. "I went to the meetings too, but  
pretty soon Onep was going all the time, working for Neyesh and the   
others on the weekends..." she trailed off.  
  
"Well, when's he coming back?" Nerys put her hands on her hips and   
fixed her eyes squarely on her father's face. //Miko's  
been gone for a year now; we still hear from him; I don't get what   
they're so upset about.//  
  
"We don't know," Taban said, simply.  
  
"Well, Fa, one of these days I'm going to join the resistance, too,"   
Nerys said. "Already Akrim says I'm big enough to  
learn how to use a phaser."  
  
Taban bit back a shout, instead grabbed Nerys to his chest. "I hope   
to the Prophets that you don't join that damned  
resistance," he said, hearing Regat's voice in his head,   
softly...//They're Bajor's only hope, my love...//  
  
"No, Nerys," Laren said, swiping a hand across her eyes. "Onep didn't   
leave with the resistance. He left with the  
Contra-Rebels. He left with a group of demonstrators to protest in   
the Capital. He left...with the Cardassians."  
  
//She's got to be wrong,// Nerys thought. //We're fighting *against*   
the Cardassians, not *with* them!// "You mean he left  
to fight the Cardassians, right?" She looked from Laren to her   
father, struggling to understand.  
  
Taban shook his head. "No, my love. He left to fight the resistance,"   
he sighed. "But it's all the same to me - it doesn't  
matter who kills you - " //Oh, Regat, where are you when I need   
you?!// " - you're still just as dead."  
  
//One brother in the resistance and one brother fighting the   
resistance,// Nerys thought, the words seeming to contain more  
significance than her eleven-year-old mind could really process. //I   
guess I'm the tie-breaker...// "I've got to go," she  
said. "I'll see you later, Fa. Bye, Laren," Nerys waved a hand and   
was halfway out the door, ignoring her father's pleas to  
come back, sit down, stay, stay, please, Nerys...  
  
_Bajor, Outside Singha, 2354_  
  
"What's this again?" Nerys said, holding up a complicated tangle of wires.  
  
"D'lik. D...LIK..." Furel enunciated, so she'd learn the word. "It's   
a kind of communications relay that runs underground,  
or overhead on wires. Rather than using satellite transmissions -   
which can be intercepted - here the messages are sent  
directly through the wires, or across a kind of fiber-optic system.   
The quality is generally hazy, but it does the job."  
  
"D'lik. DLIK dlik dlik" she said, coiling it carefully and setting it   
into the bottom of a road rack. "And this?" she held  
up a black box with a metal spike extending nearly a third of a meter   
from one end.  
  
"Soil sanitizer," Furel said. "Stick it in the ground and it   
virginizes the soil's EM signature, oh, for about a five, six  
kilometer radius. Useful if someone's tracking us on foot - they   
won't be able to get a lock."  
  
"But not as useful as a RECLAT," Kira said, gesturing to the series   
of black spikes stacked neatly in the corner of the  
road box. "Those virginize the soil for hundreds of kilo's, right?"  
  
"Damn, she's a quick study," Lorit Akrem said to Furel. "Maybe a   
hundred, if you're lucky," he explained to Kira. "But  
they're nearly foolproof."  
  
"You'd think they'd really destroy the soil, though," Kira mused.   
"For planting, and so forth. Really scorch the hell out  
of it."  
  
Shakaar looked up. "You farm?" It was the first time the cel's leader   
had ever spoken to her directly, and Kira was a  
little shaken.  
  
"No, but my father loves to garden," she replied, thinking of Taban,   
sitting outside, mourning for his lost sons. //Poor  
Fa...//  
  
"Well, we'll just have to be careful where we use our RECLAT, in that   
case," Shakaar smiled. "It really does...scorch the  
hell out of the soil. After the war is over, we're going to have   
another century of rebuilding on our hands."  
  
"Give it to me now!" Lorit said. "Farming over spoonheads, any day of   
the week. Any day."  
  
"Hear, hear!" said Lupaza, crawling over to where Kira and Furel were   
sorting through inventory. "How are you, kid?" she  
addressed Kira.  
  
"Learning," Kira said. "What happens next?"  
  
"We've got a rendezvous with the Tibel-Kari this evening," Shakaar   
said. "Your brother's up there, right?" Kira nodded.  
"Well, there's a raid on Doyanpar, outside the Capital tomorrow, and   
the ranks up there are a little slim. Old Dakhur is in  
okay shape; until the next raid, that is; so it might behoove us to   
join forces with them, see if we can do some cleaning  
up in Musulla," Shakaar concluded.  
  
"I'd love to work with Miko," Kira said.  
  
"You..." Shakaar addressed Nerys once again. "You, my dear, are doing   
nothing of the kind. Ten years old is absolutely too  
young to fight with the Shakaar. Talk to me again when you're...I   
don't know...twelve?"  
  
Kira looked at Shakaar, met his eyes. "You need me," she said simply.   
And Shakaar looked away, shaking his head. But he  
knew, had known since he met this young girl two years before; they did.  
  
_Bajor, Singha Refugee Camp, 2354_  
  
//I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't// Lorit's footsteps matched   
the meter of the voice in his head as he paced the  
crumbling sidewalk outside the barracks. He looked around for a   
savior, but he was alone. He had to do it. //Damn it,  
Prophets, I'd give anything if I didn't have to deliver this message;   
if no one did...//  
  
The Prophets were, as usual when Lorit implored them lately, silent.   
He walked up the steps.  
  
"Mr. Kira?" Lorit said, when Taban opened the door to the tiny apartment.  
  
"Please. Call me Taban. Little Nerys has told me so much about you that I feel   
we're old friends. Lorit Akrem, if I'm not  
mistaken?" Taban   
gestured for Lorit to follow him into the cozy chamber.  
  
"You're not mistaken," Lorit said, his face expressionless.  
  
Nerys came racing out of her bedroom with a book in her hand. "Lorit!   
How did it go? Tell me everything. Did you see Miko?"  
  
"Slow down. I don't know where to begin, and your enthusiasm is   
making it all the harder," Lorit said, while Taban explored  
his face with his eyes. "I have good news, bad news and worse news,   
and that's just all there is to it. I've never been  
good with words. So." He took a deep breath. "The good news is that   
the Doyanpar raid was successful. That whole station is  
out of commission indefinitely." Nerys smiled, touched her father's   
arm. His face was stone. "The bad news is that we're  
moving out; the Shakaar, that is. Intelligence reports a prisoner   
transfer through here sometime this week, and I've  
*never* heard evidence of a waypost city on a transport route   
surviving unscathed. More likely than not we'll be halfway to  
Gallitep ourselves if we stay here, so we've got to keep heading north."  
  
"And the worse news?" Taban's voice shook a little.  
  
For a long moment, Lorit Akrem just studied the floor. Then Nerys spoke.  
  
"I know, Fa. I know. It's okay, Lorit. Thank you," Nerys said.  
  
Lorit still stood, shuffling his feet and not daring to look into   
their fallen faces.  
  
"He's dead," Taban said flatly. "Miko's dead."  
  
"I'm sorry," Lorit said, near to tears himself. "But I have to tell   
you something more."  
  
"What is it?" Taban shrieked. "What more could there *possibly* be to   
tell?" Nerys was shaking, gripping the back of her  
chair afraid she might tear it apart in fury.  
  
"Uh..." Lorit began. "There was a demonstration, at the Capital. At   
Doyanpar. Just a handful of Contra-Rebels;" he spat the  
word, "they'd staked out the place. I mean, they might be   
collaborators but they're still Bajoran; we tried to warn them  
that we had the place surrounded but they wouldn't move...they just   
sat there..." Lorit slammed the heel of his hand  
against his forehead. "I got the list of casualties from our   
intelligence link. Onep Kira was among the demonstrators  
lost."  
  
"Onep," Taban said, his face ashen. "I see. Dead. Both dead. All   
dead. Everybody's dead."  
  
"I'm sorry," Lorit said again.  
  
"Why!" Nerys screamed. "Why would Onep interfere? When he knew that   
Miko..." she took a breath. "We're trying to fight the  
Cardassians here; my brothers aren't supposed to *kill* each other!"  
  
Taban stared past Lorit unblinking at a spot on the wall.  
  
"I'm sorry Nerys, Taban. I am truly, deeply sorry."  
  
"I know," Nerys said, willing herself not to scream out again. She   
nodded goodbye to him, and kissed her father gently  
before heading into the bedroom to light the Duranya for her brothers.  
  
_Bajor, Singha Refugee Camp, 2355_  
  
//They can take my wife, they can take my children, but they won't   
take my garden,// Taban muttered. The fourth  
Gallitep-transfer caravan in as many months had traversed the city   
today, and so far no one had taken any notice of a tired  
old man puttering around in his garden.  
  
They had told him to leave; they had insisted, but Taban refused.   
Only a handful of Bajorans - sympathizers and lackeys,  
mostly - still remained in Singha; the rest, including Taban's only   
living child, had moved north to Shonii and the  
outlying plains.  
  
//She's gone. I might as well face it. Any day now some sad looking   
soldier's gonna come knocking at my door to tell me  
that my Nerys was blown to bits. Nerys. My only child. My favorite,   
always my favorite. Onep was the first, the smartest,  
the most independent. Miko was a brilliant soldier, ingenious,   
innovative and devilish. But you, Nerys, light of my life,  
gift of the Prophets...you were all these things. And you were her,   
my Regat, my true love. The same wide, elfin smile, the  
same fire in your eyes, the same short temper and long memory. Oh,   
Nerys, to lose you would be to lose her again. I can't  
do it. I can't do it again, Nerys...my Nerys...my Regat...//  
  
That was the day Taban cracked.  
  
He threw his head back and laughed, and laughed and begged to the   
Prophets for death to come swiftly, and to make sure his  
music-makers were protected. //They are my children, now, singing,   
dying in the wind...//  
  
But death didn't come, and his flowers blossomed as brilliantly as   
any year. And, a few kilometers north, Kira Nerys was  
initiated into the Shakaar resistance cel.  
  
_Bajor, Shonii Camp, Shakaar Cel, 2357_  
  
"Higa Mentar cel moving west-south-west, returning on all   
frequencies, transmitting onÉ"  
  
"Yeah, like you ever stayed *conscious* in hand-to-hand combat, much   
less knocked out a Gul!" Orlat stood, towering over  
Matu who was prying open the end of a discharged phaser power-cell   
with his teeth.  
  
"Sh!" Kira Nerys commanded, then flushed. "Sorry," she said to Orlat,   
fifteen years her senior and more than twice her  
size. She smacked the side of the comm unit with the heel of her hand   
to try and get back the fading transmission.  
  
"ÉLenaris Holm debriefing regarding [garbled sounds] at 0800 [garbled   
sounds]. All personell to await [garbled sounds]."  
The unit whispered mostly static, and Kira smacked it again.  
  
"Do you doubt me?" Matu stood, wresting the power-cell from his teeth   
and spitting the metal plug on the floor. "Do you  
want some moreÉpalpableÉproof?" Orlat let out a snarl, and raised an   
arm to strike Matu when --  
  
"Please! Shut up!" Kira said, no longer caring if she was out of   
line. There hadn't been this much comm traffic in weeks,  
and now, massive troop movements were being reported, cel leaders   
being called to the capital for clandestine meetings. She  
pressed an ear to the comm unit.  
  
"Transmitting on seven-seven-three-one; all further messages on   
secured channel six-oh-three- oneÉ"  
  
Kira tweaked a dial, realigned the unit for 6031,  
  
"Éphalanx forming outside Gallitep. Higa Mentar and Shakaar liasons;   
authentication required for further assignment.  
Contact General Ari at Alpha-RedEightSeven-Kava. To all personnel and   
civilian proctor groups in the southern quadrant,  
stand by for information regarding troop movement throughÉ"  
  
Shakaar reached past Kira, his arm brushing her shoulder as he shut   
the transmission off.  
  
"Why all the secrecy?" Lupaza gave Shakaar a sideways look. "A   
secured channel only to tell us to open transmission with a  
General on an Alpha-Kava line?"  
  
"Alpha-Kava line?" Kira repeated stupidly.  
  
Shakaar looked to both of them, sighed, raked his fingers through his   
hair. He was 27 years old, one of the youngest cel  
leaders in the militia, but today he could have passed for fifty. He   
closed his eyes for longer than a blink before  
speaking.  
  
"Alpha-Kava lines are twice-encrypted, only used for high- to   
extremely-high-priority orders, never the same channel twice.  
Red Eight Seven, huh?" Shakaar mused. "Sounds like Yabata province,   
but it could be a decoy channelÉanyway. As for why all  
this secrecy?" He looked to his communications officer, Gant, Kira's   
direct superior. "Get me that line open, authorization  
Shakaar five five white. We'll find out."  
  
Gant logged on to the main computer, used his auth code and Shakaar's   
to open the secure line. Kira, Lupaza and the others  
fell back, tactfully out of earshot and conspicuously silent.  
  
"Have you ever used anÉAlpha-Kava line?" Kira asked Furel, who had   
slipped in beside Lupaza, his hand on her shoulder.  
Lupaza blinked up at him.  
  
"Just once," he said. And paused. "When they gave us the orders to   
assassinate Legate Limar."  
  
"*You* assassinated Limar?" Kira went ashen, remembering the riots   
that took place after Limar's death, and the looting,  
and the fires - the Cardassians had doubled their presence in Dakhur   
after that. A mixed blessing, considering the effect  
of martial law on the civilian population of Old Dakhur, but Limar   
was one of the top Cardassian officers on the continent,  
and one of the most feared. She looked at Furel with new respect.  
  
Matu started speaking, but Furel hushed him, looking at Lupaza. "Yes,   
we did," he said simply, and Kira knew the  
conversation was over.  
  
And Shakaar approached them, the fifteen members of his squad waiting   
to hear their orders, afraid to hear their orders. He  
looked at them and smiled.  
  
"Gallitep," he said, his voice cracking with an excitement Kira   
hadn't seen since she joined the resistance.  
"Prophet-damned Gallitep Labor CampÉwe're taking it back!"  
  
Shouts of "we're taking it back!" and "good-bye Gallitep!" pounded   
through the room, bouncing off barrels and ceilings and  
floors. Furel swept Nerys into his fleshy embrace, kissed her   
forehead. "It's about time, girl," he said. "It is *about*  
time!" Watching his troops psych up like this, Shakaar slipped away   
from the throng for a better view. And he couldn't  
shake his smile.  
  
_Bajor, Gallitep, 2357_  
  
Shakaar picked desperately at the barracks lock with the Ferengi   
ear-pricker their last supply run had provided. Behind  
them, the familiar clicking sound of Cardassian patrol-copters shook the sky.  
  
"Anach'vo!" Shakaar swore. "Kolla, Zabeth, you can't afford to wait   
any longer; see what you can do up north. They're  
evacuating us at 2500, come hell or ta'omer, so we'd better have some   
wetbacks to show for it. Gant, what do you hear?"  
Shakaar strained to hear his communication chief's report over the   
sound of Kolla and Zabeth's troops kicking up dust as  
they raced northward.  
  
Gant clapped his hands over his earphones as the din of the copters   
encroached. "Oh, no," he said. "Uh uh. No way. Damn."  
  
"Talk to me," Shakaar said, never taking his eyes off the barracks door.  
  
"It's Darhe'el," Gant said. "He's setting off a domino-system of   
mines all across the western quadrant."  
  
"He's afraid we'llÉ" Lupaza began.  
  
"Damn right he's afraid; he'd rather destroy the entire camp, guards   
and all, then see us liberate these prisoners."  
Shakaar punctuated his comment by pounding his fist on the metal   
door, and a weak knocking came in response. Kira shuddered  
at the sound. She leaned close to the building, heard the faint   
screaming, crying, moans of desperation through the thick  
metal walls. She pulled back as if she'd been burned. Half a   
kilometer away, the copters landed.  
  
The ear-pricker registered the correct frequency, beeped in   
affirmation, and everything happened at once. Tens of tens of  
prisoners poured out into daylight, blinking, crying, naked, grasping   
for Shakaar as if he were a god. The first wave of  
Cardassians approached on foot, firing at everything that moved.  
  
Kira unslung her phaser, threw herself against the barracks wall and   
returned fire. The prisoners scattered, screaming,  
despite Shakaar's orders to shut up, get down, get out of the way.  
  
More thermals erupted, one after another, as Darhe'el's troops   
approached from the west. The air was thick with screams of  
agony.  
  
Gant dove toward Lupaza, throwing her clear of a blast that tore his   
leg instead. He grimaced. "I'm fine!"  
  
Kira fired blindly, screaming, eyes closed, Furel at her side. She   
didn't open her eyes for a long moment after the last  
Cardassian fell.  
  
When she did open her eyes she could see the blazes of Darhe'el's   
explosions pockmarking the horizon. Bodies littered the  
ground, Bajoran and Cardassian alike. Kira waved an arm in front of   
her face, trying to make sense of the battle raging  
around her, through smoke as thick as wool.  
  
Furel and Lupaza were already collecting the prisoners, ushering them   
down the slope to the evac site. Shakaar looked to  
Kira and Gant.  
  
"We've lost the west, and it looks like Darhe'el's moving north   
through the mining camp. Suggestions?" Shakaar said.  
  
Kira thought quickly and spoke. "Take out the main concourse," she said.  
  
Shakaar squinted up. "Why?"  
  
"Look," she pointed. "See how those thermals are erupting in   
sequence?" One went off, as if to illustrate. "They must be  
wired along those main concourse splints, so each one will set the   
next off. Take out the splints before the mines  
detonateÉ"  
  
"And they won't domino anymore! But, can we do it?" Shakaar stared at Kira.  
  
"If you'll let me try toÉ" she began. "My brother was an expert at   
defusing explosives. He taught me a lot of his methods.  
All we need to do isÉ"  
  
"Don't have time to tell me. You've got to do it," Shakaar said.   
"Gant, you're with me. Let's get to the rest of these  
barracks while we still can, try and link up with Mobara's squad toÉ"   
he glanced at Kira, who stood dumbly, her mouth  
agape, her bony frame shaking. "Kira," he said hurriedly, then   
paused. "Nerys. If you don't think you can do this, please  
tell me now and we'll find another way."  
  
//My one chance to prove myself. And a chance to prove to you, Miko,   
that you didn't die in vain. I'll finish what you  
started. I promise.//  
  
Instead of answering Shakaar, she took a deep breath, nodded, and   
took off, pounding the ground toward the concourse.  
Shakaar watched with awe.  
  
That night, drinking to their victory aboard a transport cruiser,   
Kira was promoted to Specialist. She was fourteen years  
old.  
  
Shakaar approached her and squeezed her arm in congratulations. From   
now on, the war would have a distinctly different  
bias.  
  
Gallitep had fallen.  
  
Here's the Gallitep scene written differently, as extracted from   
another story I wrote. Which is better? Should I  
combine them? Which bits from which should IÊuse?  
  
The siren blared as half of Shakaar group stormed down the hill,   
nearly blinded by smoke. They reached the  
clearing, panting, and raced between markers that, until moments   
ago, had projected a force field strong enough  
to vaporize anything that so much as approached. Kira glanced   
over her shoulder, noting green flares erupting  
like pox across the valley. They had disabled the Cardassians'   
communications systems, which gave Shakaar's cel a  
distinct advantage, but at the rate these warning beacons were   
flaring, perhaps not enough of one. The  
Cardassians would be upon them too soon. Without even noting the   
reflex, Kira spat at the thought, and peeled a  
strip of hair back from across her forehead. They reached the camp.  
  
Lupiza swung her phaser too late; the Cardassian guard's blast   
tore her shoulder and she stifled a scream. She  
raised her arm to strike, but the guard reeled back stiffly and   
collapsed, blood spurting from his neck. The  
Bajoran soldier behind him grinned at Lupiza, lowered his rifle   
and ran off. Kira struck the second guard  
squarely in the chest with her next shot, and leaped over his   
body to join Shakaar, who was desperately picking  
at the barracks lock. A scream made her turn in time to see   
Furel collapse in a heap against the wall. She looked  
away.  
  
"Kid," he called, sounding exaggeratedly hoarse. Kira knelt   
beside him. "Something's wrong with my knee," Furel  
said. "That shot ripped right through the ligament. See if you   
can find something to bind it with."  
  
Kira felt for the joint, tore away the bloody fabric from the   
older man's trousers. The shot had barely broken  
the skin; already the blood was caking, but Kira knew what Furel   
was trying to do. Behind her, she could hear the  
muffled pleas of the prisoners as Shakaar clamored at the door.  
  
"I've been in my share of battles," she told Furel. "I've seen   
dead bodies worse than this. You don't have to  
distract me with this drama," she gestured to his knee, gently   
wiping the nearly-healed wound with her  
shirtsleeve.  
  
"Psh!" Furel spat. "Dead. Dead is one thing. These people would   
be better off dead, many of them. They've spent  
there entire lives here, with only the vaguest of understandings   
that life exists beyond the horror of these  
camps. They're ghosts."  
  
"I'll take care of them," young Kira said bravely, squeezing   
Furel's shoulder. He shrugged her hand away.  
  
"No you won't," he said. "You'd better not. In here, we do our   
job and we get the hell out of here. Brick up your  
heart, kid; if you open it to these prisoners, if you look into   
their eyes and try to see even an glimpse of what  
they've experienced, you're broken forever." His voice wavered,   
looking at Kira. "Damn," he said, to no one in  
particular. "She's too damned young for this." Ro Zayim was   
approaching, and Kira and Furel rose to meet him.  
"We're all they've got," Kira whispered, but Furel didn't hear her.  
  
"This entire quadrant is cordoned off!" Ro reached the site,   
breathless, shouting. "Darhe'el must have suspected  
his reinforcements wouldn't make it in time - he's destroying   
the camp, and everyone in it! The only way out is  
the western launching pad - I've sent all the troops down that   
way. We've got to close the gates." Even as he  
spoke, Kira could hear the sound of mines erupting, on by one,   
across the ruined camp. She watched incredulously  
as bits of shrapnel fluttered across the sky, innocent in   
appearance as a flock of birds. The unmistakable scent  
of burned flesh hit her like a blow and she waved her hand   
across her face to try and make sense of the battle  
raging around her through smoke as thick as wool.  
  
"It's over," Shakaar said. "Kira, take the northern route, along   
the inside of that group of buildings. Lead  
everyone to the launch site, then try and knock out as much of   
the main concourse as you can. If you take out the  
bridge splints, Darhe'el will have to go around the ore pits and   
it will buy us some time. We've got..." he  
consulted his PADD, "eighteen minutes before Darhe'el gets here   
to flatten this quadrant as well. Zam, Kopra,  
follow her, break south and meet up with the other factions. And   
be careful - the field is riddled with mines.  
Eighteen minutes. Go!"  
  
Bodies littered the field, legs and arms torn mercilessly from   
their owners, Bajoran and Cardassian alike. Kira  
steeled herself, and, with a last glance at Furel, leapt into a   
sprint, Zam and Kopra at her heels. She didn't  
look back when she heard the barracks door unlock.  
  
Kira, Zam and Kopra raced across the field, ducking behind the   
nearest tower as a barrage of shots rang out  
behind them. Near the next barrack, fifty or sixty prisoners   
huddled together, as mines erupted on all sides.  
Kira tripped nimbly across the field, narrowly escaping a series   
of shots from behind as the guards, led by  
Limar, closed in. "Come with me!" she shouted to the Bajorans,   
and they dove behind the longhouse as the tower  
exploded into bits behind them. Kira fumbled with her detonator,   
programming the coordinates for the bridge that  
suspended the main road over the ore mines that bisected the   
camp. She plunged the detonator into the dirt and  
engaged power, the ground around it glowing orange as the device   
sent electronic impulses to the concourse  
splints. Kira heard the splints explode, one by one, staccato.  
  
Kopra was peering through an optic scanner. "Ro must not have   
reached the northern barrack!" he gulped. "There  
are dozens of prisoners up there! Darhe'el will be on them any second."  
  
"You lead these people to the launch," Kira said. "I'll take   
care of the prisoners up north. Wait for us as long  
as you can."  
  
"You'll never make it," Zam said. "They're kellipates away!"  
  
"I'll make it," Kira said with a grin, suddenly looking very   
old. Zam shook his head, but she had already started  
up the hill. "Wait for us!" she called, and disappeared over the   
ridge as Kopra and Zam left for the launch site,  
waving the prisoners along.  
  
That night, drinking to their victory aboard a transport   
cruiser, Kira noticed a phaser burn across her right  
wrist that she didn't remember receiving. Puzzled, she nursed it   
in silence, sitting beside Shakaar. They had  
succeeded, and from now on, the war would have a distinctly   
different bias. Gallitep had fallen.  
  
[End extracted chunk. Back to TMM.]  
  
_Bajor, Dakhur Province, Lenaris Cel Campsite, 2363_  
  
"Good party, huh?" a tiny, dark-haired woman poked Lupaza.  
  
"Yeah, Colonel Lenaris is pretty remarkable," Lupaza agreed.  
  
"Yeah, yeahÉ" the woman seemed sidetracked. "But who is *she*?"  
  
Lupaza laughed. "*My* name is Lupaza Anisu. And you are?"  
  
"Deserrat. Naoma Deserrat," the woman smirked sheepishly, her eyes   
glinting as midnight-black as her short hair. She handed  
Lupaza a bottle of ale.  
  
"Thanks," Lupaza said. "Now, I believe you were inquiring after that   
auburn-haired beauty monopolizing my boyfriend?" She  
gestured over to where Furel was standing, beneath a drooping jumja   
tree. Deserrat nodded impatiently.  
  
"You're drunk," Lupaza grinned, taking a long, lazy swig of the   
bitter ale. She winked at Deserrat. "Her name's Nerys.  
Captain Kira Nerys."  
  
"Kira, huh? Familiar name. She's Shakaar?" Deserrat asked.  
  
"Yeah," the older woman replied. "You?"  
  
"Higa cel, PFC," Deserrat answered absently. "So?"  
  
"SoÉwhat?" Lupaza sucked her teeth noisily.  
  
"SoÉis she single?"  
  
At this, Lupaza just threw her head back and laughed. Nonplussed,   
Deserrat rose to approach the captain.  
  
"Hey! Furel!" Lupaza called, as Deserrat neared the tree. "Get over here!"  
  
Nodding farewell to Kira, Furel obeyed, leaving the two women alone.   
Kira turned to walk away, but the raven-haired woman  
touched her arm. "Ale?" Deserrat asked, holding out a bottle. Kira smiled.  
  
She took the bottle, blew at the foam that had collected at its   
mouth. It spattered into a thousand tiny bubbles which  
floated a moment, then burst, one by one. "Kira Nerys," Kira said,   
holding out a hand to Deserrat, who took it, shook it  
firmly.  
  
"I know," she said. "I've been asking about you. Heard you   
single-handedly liberated Gallitep, damned precocious kid that  
you were. You were what? Ten?"  
  
Kira cocked her head to one side. "And you are?  
  
"Naoma Deserrat, Higa Cel, PFC," Des announced proudly.  
  
//A private. A damned private come to tell me why I don't deserve to   
be a captain, why I'm nothing more than a minor  
operative who got lucky at Gallitep. Great.// "Actually, I was   
fourteen. And all I did was my job. Shakaar's the real hero  
of Gallitep," Kira waved a hand toward where Shakaar was standing.  
  
"Oh, modest, too," Des drawled. "You get a lot of action with that line?"  
  
"Line?!" Kira glared at the girl. "Action? What sort of action are   
you looking for, *Private*?" She rolled up her sleeves  
and planted her feet squarely. //By the Prophets, I *will* belt her   
one if she doesn't get out of my sight in the next  
thirty seconds.//  
  
"Hey hey hey," Des said, taking Kira's hand and squeezing it. "Calm   
down, Nerys."  
  
//Nerys!//  
  
"...You're pretty hot-tempered, huh?" Des smirked.  
  
//I'll give her 'till the count of three...// Kira growled. "Do you   
want something?"  
  
Deserrat's face fell. "I'm sorry," she muttered, looking at the   
ground. "I can be a real brat sometimes. I didn't mean to  
be rude."  
  
"Hmpf," Kira said. "Well, if you leave me alone we'll pretend it   
never happened. How's that?"  
  
Deserrat shook her head and started to walk away. She had gotten no   
more than a few paces when she turned and leaped to  
Kira's side again.  
  
"Have you ever done a Croylus Loop?" she asked.  
  
"Is that a pick-up line?" Kira sighed.  
  
Des grinned. "Yup," she said. "Have you?"  
  
//She's cute,// Kira thought. //Even tinier than I am, if such a   
thing is possible. Hell, I'm drunk.// She took a swig of  
her beer. "No, I haven't," she said. "What is it?"  
  
"Okay," Des began pushing up her sleeves to illustrate with her   
hands. //Nice hands,// Kira thought. "You lauch a shuttle  
full impulse, cut back on the mixture while you're still inside the   
atmosphere, and pull a Ren-Luey at 3 g's."  
  
"Ren-Luey?" Kira asked.  
  
"He came up with the trick; you flip the shuttle over, send the   
engines into clip and *ride* your own plasma wave on the  
*inside* of the atmosphere."  
  
"Upside down?" Kira looked skeptical.  
  
"Upside down, right-side-up, doesn't matter at 3 g's."  
  
"So this is a tactical maneuver?" Kira asked. "Can you fire on land   
sites from up there?"  
  
Des looked wounded. "No it's not a *tactical* maneuver!" she said.   
"It's a stunt! It's *fun*! You burn these big stripes  
into the inside of the atmosphere; they can be seen from the surface   
like blue contrails, ripping out behind the ship."  
  
//Stunt. No practical purpose,// Kira chewed on the idea. "Huh," she said.  
  
"Aw, forget it!" Des said, throwing her hands in the air. //*Really*   
nice hands,// Kira thought again. "You soldier-types  
are all alike. I didn't expect you to understand."  
  
"Soldier types!" Kira's eyes grew wide and she grinned. "That   
includes yourself, Ms. I-fly-for-fun Deserrat!"  
  
Des sighed. "Not by choice, believe me. I was recruited as a pilot -   
tricked into it was more like it - though I guess  
serving the resistance is better than the other options."  
  
"And I hear Higa Mentar is quite a Commanding Officer," Kira added.  
  
"Oh, she's adorable. Ferocious, brilliant, but a real sweetheart. She   
calls us her 'kids', guess 'cause she never had any  
of her own. Works for me - I never had parents!" Des swung her head   
from side to side.  
  
Kira squinted at her. //Okay. She's *terribly* cute. And not so   
bratty now that she's not trying to impress me. And, okay.  
*Terribly*, terribly cute.// "Want to sit down?" she asked, brushing   
some leaves away at the base of the tree.  
  
"Thought you'd never ask," Des smiled.  
  
*  
  
The party had broken up hours ago, soldiers gone back to camp with   
their various cels to sleep off the debauchery before  
the raids tomorrow. Under the jumja tree Deserrat lay, her head in   
Nerys' lap. Nerys twirled a finger idly through the  
other woman's hair.  
  
"I heard some of Zayin Miko's work on digidisc once, but they say   
he's best in concert," Deserrat said, then paused. "What  
is it?" Her voice was rapidfire, vibratto, flitting through the air   
as she stared up at Kira's shadowed face.  
  
"My brother's name was Miko," Kira said softly. "And, no. I'm   
embarrassingly illiterate when it comes to music."  
  
"Well, one day, you and I will have to go see Zayin play. Hold me to   
that," Deserrat said. "AndÉI'm sorry. How did your  
brother die?"  
  
"He was in the Tibel-Kari when they raided Doyanpar. Less than half   
the cel survived the attack. But they really bruised  
the Cardies - the Doyanpar landing pad was a major drop-off point for   
supply ships."//Would have done more if Onep and his  
damned Contra-Rebels hadn't interfered. Stop that,// she commanded   
herself. //Don't think about Onep. You've pushed that  
incident out of your mind for nine years, girl; don't start feeling   
his guilt now.//  
  
"A worthwhile life and a combat death," Deserrat mused. "That's about   
all we can ask for. There are two things I want to do  
before I die. I want to win the ultralight stunt competition at   
Railos Prime" - Kira shook her head - " andÉI want to fall  
in love."  
  
Kira laughed nervously.  
  
"Smile," Deserrat said. Kira attempted a smile, Deserrat tickled her,   
and she broke into a wide grin. "I love that."  
  
"What?" Kira squinted at her.  
  
"How wide your mouth gets. It was one of the first things I noticed   
about you," Deserrat winked up. "You smle, and it's  
likeÉyour whole face gets involved. Your eyes light up, and your nose   
sorta crinkles, and the corners of your mouth reach  
all the way up toÉ" Deserrat traced a finger gently across Kira's   
lips, "those incredible cheekbones of yours."  
  
Kira let the tip of her tongue explore Deserrat's finger, kissed it   
gently, closed her eyes.  
  
"Tell me aboutÉ" she began, "the first time you made love."  
  
"WellÉ" Deserrat began, snuggling up beside Nerys and resting her   
head on her shoulder. "I was at this party, see,  
celebrating the Lenaris cel's victory at Polek Five..."  
  
Kira laughed aloud. "Presumptuous!"  
  
"Éand I saw this adorable little redhead standing under a tree, her   
eyes sparkling in the moonlight. And I said, ÔDes, you  
only live once and not long at that! Talk to her.' "  
  
"SoÉ" Nerys picked up "you sauntered over, and you allowed that poor   
girl to get to know you, and you sat up all night  
talking, and laughing, and pressing that body of yours up against her   
until it was all she could do not to tear your  
clothes off. And thenÉ" Kira's voice was trembling; she trailed off.  
  
"And then," Deserrat's eyes glinted mischevously. "And then she did."  
  
Nerys took Deserrat's face in her hands, closed her eyes and kissed   
her, her shaking hands groping, wanting to be  
everywhere at once.  
  
The sun rose to find them naked and entwined, Kira's jacket   
protecting them from the damp summer ground. Deserrat awoke  
first. She poked Nerys a couple of times to no avail, finally biting   
her breast, gently enough. Kira's eyes opened.  
  
"Did I really just meet you last night?" were the first words out of   
her mouth. Deserrat kissed her.  
  
"Yup," Deserrat said. "That's not all we did last nightÉ"  
  
Kira grinned, then leaped to her feet. "Ay! My troops - what time is it?"  
  
Deserrat squinted at the sun. "Oh-six-twentyÉsix-thirty, maybe?"  
  
"Good," Kira said. "I've got to get dressed. I've got a pep talk to   
give and a strike team to lead. And you - your sergeant  
will be looking for you - you ought to get back to camp."  
  
"Pulling rank now, Captain?" Deserrat smirked.  
  
"No, but if one of my troops showed up late on the morning of a raid,   
I'd be concerned."  
  
"Even if she was out all night with a beautiful young captain from   
the famous Gallitep-liberating Shakaar?"  
  
"Even if," Kira said, pulling Deserrat into a kiss. "Now go. I'll see   
you at the rendezvous, if not before."  
  
Deserrat pulled on her uniform, struggled her feet into her boots,   
tousled Kira's hair and skipped away into the  
orange-yellow of sunrise.  
  
Kira allowed herself a few minutes for the warmth of the previous   
night to flood her body before brushing herself off,  
dressing, and setting forth to rally the troops.  
  
_Bajor, Outside Singha, 2363_  
  
"Nice to be back at the old haunt?" Gant ribbed Kira, strapping on his boots.  
  
"Oh, yeah, nothing like the ol' work camp to bring back memories of   
home," Kira grinned, smearing sunblock across her  
cheekbones and nose.  
  
"Gonna stop by and see your father?"  
  
//I can't deal with him right now. I can't listen to him moan   
anymore. Ever since Miko and Onep died he's been brooding,//  
Kira looked away from Gant. "Yeah, maybe, if I have the time," she   
dismissed him.  
  
"Never time for dear old dad," Gant shook his head, ducked inside the   
cave the Shakaar had made their start in, years back.  
"Well, good luck. I'm in contact with General Ari if you need   
reinforcements," he called.  
  
"Hardly," Kira called back. "This is what they call   
quick-and-painless. We'll be out in seconds."  
  
"I sure hope so," Gant replied.  
  
Kira triangulated her scanner and programmed the main computer's   
frequency into its small memory bank. Tucking it into her  
belt, she set off to organize her team.  
  
"Matu," she greeted her troops, "how's the communications relay?"  
  
"It's in place, Captain," he nodded, "I've got two guys running d'lik   
from Singha's generator; we should have data for  
download in a couple minutes. What luck, huh, to have both the   
security grid and the communications scrambler down in the  
same day."  
  
"No luck about it," Kira grinned. "Trentin Fala risked her life to   
bring us this information. This is a once-in-a-blue-moon  
opportunity to sting Singha."  
  
"Well, it looks like smooth sailing," Matu nodded. "Once we get   
inside the overseer's office, we'll be able to shut down  
security for half the camp."  
  
"That's what I'm counting on," Kira said. "Herrin, Keli, this should   
be a breeze. In and out of Gul Nayesh's office while  
we've got him distracted down here, and you should be able to engage   
a security overload before the system catches you.  
Okay?"  
  
Herrin gave her a high sign, strapped her phaser to her belt. "Let's   
do it," she said, and Keli followed her through  
Singha's walls.  
  
"Got it," Matu raised his scanner victoriously. "Here are the   
coordinates, and I've intercepted an alert beacon; they're  
acknowledging the booby-trap signals. Yup, they're moving out now."  
  
"All right then," Kira said. "Jeke, wait here for me - I'm gonna reload the..."  
  
"Kira!" Matu looked alarmed. "They're not leaving the grounds like we   
thought. They're dragging Bajorans from the barracks;  
they must suspect an informant! And...wait! There's more troops   
coming in, damn it, strike teams! That's why the security  
net was down today; they were baiting us - bringing in reinforcements!"  
  
"Fala!" Kira gasped, and then, as an afterthought, "Fa!"  
  
"Indications of conflagration are showing up all over; they must be   
ransacking the place," Matu furrowed his brow,  
examining the lifesign readings on his scanner. "I'm getting   
casualties across the board."  
  
"Jeke!" Kira ordered. "I'll be right back." //We're going through   
with this, and we're doing it now,// she thought. //I'm  
going to make them pay for what they did to my home.//  
  
Turning on her heel, Kira sped back inside the cave and pushed her   
way to the weapons locker. She had loaded up her arms  
with phaser rifles and was headed for the door when Gant shouted her down.  
  
"What is it?" she asked gruffly.  
  
"We're transporting the wounded up here as quickly as we can," he   
sputtered, out of breath. "Quick and painless, huh?"  
  
"Nerys!" she heard Furel's voice from the other side of the dugout,   
and when she turned to look she froze, dropping her  
armload of rifles with a clatter.  
  
Taban lay on a stretcher, severe burns across his arms and chest,   
from what appeared to be crossed-phaser fires. He was  
shaking. She rushed to his side.  
  
"Fa?" she whispered.  
  
"Nerys," he smiled. "Here to see me off?"  
  
//Oh, no,// she thought, //not you too. Not Onep and Miko and now   
you?// "Medic!" she shrieked, her voice cracking. She  
stood, furious, terrified. No medic came.  
  
"Nerys!" Taban gasped. "Don't leave me. I was...such a fool...the   
Cardassians who were setting fire to the barracks; I  
tried to *reason* with them..." he managed a small laugh. "Look what   
they've done to me!"  
  
Kira clenched her fists, locking eyes with her father. "I'm gonna   
make them pay for this," she spat. "I promise."  
  
"They burned my garden," he moaned, his eyes rolling back in his head   
and his chest heaving. "They set fire to everything.  
I worked for years, planting, and caring for it...my music-makers,   
gone, it's gone..."  
  
Nerys knelt beside him, biting back tears. "We'll plant another one   
together, you and I," she promised.  
  
Taban shook his head. "You're so like your mother. I wish I had your   
strength, your confidence...but I'm so *afraid*..."  
  
//I can't listen to this anymore,// Nerys shook her head, standing   
again. "Where's that damned medic!"  
  
Taban tugged her arm, weakly. "Don't go," he whispered. "The medic   
can wait. Stay with me Nerys; I don't want to be alone."  
  
//No. I can't see this. I can't watch this.// Closing her eyes, she   
sat beside him, clutching his frail hand in hers. "I'm  
right here, Fa," she sighed.  
  
"I can hear the Prophets calling me now, Nerys," Taban croaked, his   
eyelids fluttering. "My pagh is slipping..."  
  
//No, Fa! No. This is not happening.//  
  
Furel burst in, shouting her name. "Nerys! We found 'em. Cardassian   
heavy weapons unit, third assault group, ninth order.  
They've been plotting this for months. It was a trap."  
  
"How far to their base?" Kira asked him, gently wresting her hand   
free from her father's claw-grip.  
  
Furel cast her a puzzled look, then glanced at her father on the   
stretcher. "Just outside of Tempasa," he said.  
  
"I'll go with you," Kira said. //I want to watch them die, not you,   
Fa. Not you. Not like this.//  
  
Furel looked at Taban again. "Are you sure?"  
  
"I know the area," she said. //Please, Furel, please don't make this   
any harder for me than it already is.//  
  
"So does Gant," Furel argued.  
  
The rage that was boiling inside Kira erupted, and she hit the roof.   
"They didn't shoot Gant's father!" she hollered. "They  
shot mine."  
  
Furel nodded and left the room, waving for Kira to follow.  
  
She knelt beside Taban one last time. "We found the soldiers who did   
this to you," she smiled. "I'm gonna make them pay,  
just like IÊpromised."  
  
Taban frowned at her. "The others; let them do it. You don't have to go..."  
  
Kira shook her head. "Yes I do. Yes I do. I won't be long," she   
kissed him on the head, nearly retching at the taste of  
seared flesh on her lips. Then, rising, she shouted out for Jeke to   
follow, and they raced to catch up with Furel.  
  
_Bajor, Shonii Camp, 2363_  
  
"Nerys, girl, get up. Get up," Lupaza shook her, and Kira rolled   
over, buried her face against the wall.  
  
"Anisu, go away," Kira growled.  
  
"Kira Nerys!" Lupaza said, louder this time. "This is unacceptable,   
and tiresome. You've been excused from active duty for  
a month now. We need you today."  
  
"What's today?" Kira rubbed her eyes.  
  
Lupaza sighed. "General Ari's cel is retaking the capital day after   
tomorrow, remember? We're running perimeter defense  
with Higa cel, and ranks are *too* slim. You're not expendable,   
Nerys. We have a lot of preparation to do."  
  
"I'll probably just get you all killed," Kira glared at Lupaza, shook   
her head and flopped back onto her bedroll.  
  
Lupaza grabbed Kira by the shoulders, flinging her blanket off and   
looking the younger woman squarely in the eyes. "We put  
up with your cold feet when you were Shakaar's precocious   
fourteen-year-old soldier, but it doesn't work anymore, Kira.  
Your life is not your own, and we can't keep making exceptions for   
you. Shakaar was going to come and tell you this  
himself, but I told him to let me do it to *spare* you his wrath. And   
I promised him I'd have you up, and dressed, and  
ready to go."  
  
"When does Higa cel get here?" Kira stalled for time. "Don't tell Des   
I'm here. I can't see her."  
  
Lupaza looked away. "They're already here, Nerys," she said. "They've   
been here since last night."  
  
//Des didn't come see me?// Kira tried not to let the thought sting.   
//It's one thing if I can't see her, but I'm the one  
who lost the last member of her family; she's supposed to come take   
care of me!// "Oh," was all she said.  
  
"Nerys, you've been avoiding her for a month. You may not have moved   
on with your life, but she has. And, frankly, I don't  
blame her," Lupaza said, not daring to meet Kira's eyes.  
  
"My father died!" Tears welled up in Kira's eyes for the   
thousand-and-first time that month. "My mother died because the  
Cardassians *let* her; when Miko tried to fight the spoonheads Onep   
got in his way, and *boom*, both my brothers, dead. But  
my father never hurt anyone in his life, he was just an old man who   
loved his garden," she leaped out of bed, started  
pacing, ranting, waving her fists, her face red, "and they come to   
kill him for no reason, and I'm right there, and I'm  
supposed to stop it, I'm supposed to be *protecting* him, but instead   
this twice-damned resistance is just some big joke so  
we don't have to admit we're all Cardassian slaves, they're just   
toying with us, making us think we're significant! Nothing  
matters anymore! Anisu! Tell Shakaar I quit. I quit the resistance. I   
quit it all. I quit," she collapsed, panting, buried  
her head in her arms. "I quit," she said again.  
  
Lupaza sat beside her, put her arm around Nerys' shoulder. "Are you   
done?" she said quietly. Kira nodded. "Good," Lupaza  
said, standing again. "Because you made quite a scene, and that's not   
valuable for morale on the day before an imporant  
raid. So I'm going to go out there and tell everyone that's   
pretending not to be eavesdropping that you needed to get that  
out of your system, and you're fine. And you will get dressed and   
meet the rest of us on the training field in five  
minutes."  
  
Kira looked at Lupaza through tear-reddened eyes, astonished. //She's   
complaining that I'm making a *scene*?// Kira tried  
to catch her breath. //She's supposed to tell me it's going to be   
okay, she's supposed to...// Lupaza was getting up to  
leave. "Anisu!" Kira pleaded.  
  
"Five minutes," Lupaza said, not looking back as she left the dugout.  
  
When Kira still hadn't shown up half an hour later, Lupaza considered   
going back and trying again, but thought the better  
of it. "Naoma," she called to Deserrat, who was sitting in an   
enormous pile of purged phaser power cells, squinting at them  
blankly, picking up one and another, looking at it, and dropping it.   
She waved Lupaza over.  
  
"Hi, Lupaza," Naoma smiled. "Do you know how to tell which of these   
are recyclable?"  
  
Lupaza nodded, sitting down. "Shake 'em," she said, demonstrating.   
"Hear that ball bearing rattling around? That means this  
one's spent; we'll send it back to headquarters for refit. But if you   
don't hear the rattle it's okay to recharge; we can  
get a couple more uses out of it." She started sorting through the   
pile, separating them into groups. Naoma followed suit,  
and the pile shrank in silence. Finally Lupaza spoke.  
  
"You're not going to see her," she said. Naoma looked away.  
  
"I don't think so," Naoma tried to sound casual, but her voice cracked.  
  
"I think it would really help her to talk to you," Lupaza said.  
  
"Maybe," Naoma said, "but I tried weeks ago, and I'm sick of it. I   
can't do it anymore."  
  
Lupaza blew air through pursed lips. "We're all sick of it. But she   
needs you, Des."  
  
There was a long silence. "I can't," Naoma said again.  
  
"Okay," Lupaza said. "I understand."  
  
There was another long silence, only broken periodically by the clunk   
of a flying power cell landing on the appropriate  
pile on either side of the women. Finally Naoma flung the power cell   
she was holding and stood, walked away. Lupaza  
followed.  
  
"What is it, Deserrat?" Lupaza asked gently.  
  
"It's not your problem," Naoma stammered. "You hardly know me."  
  
"I know you well enough to know that we both love Nerys," Lupaza   
said. "Talk to me."  
  
"Okay," Naoma began, taking a deep breath. "Here's the thing. When I   
first met Nerys, I thought, 'this girl is unbreakable.  
This girl can do anything.' And I felt so safe with her, I felt like,   
no matter what happened, she'd take care of me, she'd  
stay strong. And I felt like..." Tears welled in Naoma's eyes and she   
swallowed hard, took another breath. "I wanted to  
believe that the resistance was made up of people like her, that we   
really had a chance against the spoonheads. But to see  
her like this..." Lupaza folded the girl into her arms, and Des   
sobbed on her shoulder.  
  
"It's okay, Des," Lupaza whispered. "It's okay. I know what it's like   
to fall in love with someone, to want to believe that  
they're invincible, perfect. But nobody is."  
  
"But to see her like this," Des said again, gulping as she clutched   
Lupaza's shoulder, "I can't do it. I'm afraid I'll lose  
what little nerve I have. My parents died when I was too young to   
remember; I grew up at the shipyards, working my way as a  
test pilot and practicing stunt flying. Everything is okay when I'm   
up in a shuttle, when I'm away from all this. But now,  
I'm too close to it all. It's too real to me, the war, the   
Cardassians, all this death. And if Kira Nerys can't handle it,  
how am *I* supposed to?"  
  
Lupaza stepped back, smiled at Des. "You are, girl. You're handling   
it right now, better than Nerys, I might add. You've  
got the strength for it, even if you don't know it. She could use   
some of that strength right now."  
  
Des wiped her eyes. "Maybe," she said, not sounding convinced.  
  
"No maybe about it," Lupaza said. "But we have one more day to   
prepare for what could be the biggest battle either of these  
cels has ever been in. And we need Kira back on her feet."  
  
"And she's my responsibility," Des finished sullenly.  
  
"Something like that," Lupaza laughed gently.  
  
"Okay, Anisu," Des said, sucking air through her teeth. "I'll talk to her."  
  
"Thank you," Lupaza said. "She's in the dugout."  
  
Naoma's eyes went wide. "Now? Right now I have to do this?"  
  
"There's only ever 'now,'" Lupaza said. "Now's all we've got."  
  
"All right," Naoma shook her head. "Here goes nothing."  
  
"Good luck," Lupaza called, as Naoma headed for the barracks.  
  
*  
  
Nerys feigned sleep. Des circled her bedroll for a moment, finally   
collapsing on the ground beside her, slipping under the  
covers and wrapping her arms around Nerys tightly.  
  
//Go away go away go away,// Nerys thought numbly. //You don't want   
to be involved with me, Des. Save yourself.//  
  
"Nerys," Des said, squeaking a little.  
  
"Please go away, Des," Nerys said.  
  
"I love you, Nerys," Des said.  
  
Nerys sighed heavily. "No you don't, Des. You don't. Trust me."  
  
"Well, I need you, Nerys, like it or not. And so does Lupaza, and   
Shakaar, and General Ari..."  
  
Nerys cut her off. "General Ari doesn't give a damn about me," she   
said, "and I'm just in Shakaar's way, and Lupaza's - and  
yours. You're so much better off without me."  
  
Des bit her lip. //I can't keep this up,// she thought. She pulled an   
unresponsive Nerys closer to her, pressed her cheek  
against Nerys' back, felt the knobby lumps of spine dig into her jaw.   
She tasted tears; her own. "I love you, Nerys. I love  
you so much, and it hurts me to see you like this. Please, please   
come back to the world." Nerys' body tensed.  
  
//She deserves better than me,// Nerys thought. //Hell, she thinks   
she loves me. My father - there was so much I never told  
him, how important he was to me, how guilty I felt for not taking   
better care of him after Nep and Miko died. But Des, she  
has a whole life to live, people who care about her...//  
  
"Nerys, all I want is you," Des murmured, as if she could hear Nerys'   
thoughts. "Please come back to me."  
  
Nerys felt Des' arms tighted around her, and she slipped a hand in   
Des', twined her fingers around Des' slender ones.  
//You're all I have, Des,// Nerys felt tears streak her own cheeks.   
//That's too big a burden for me to place on you, after  
all I've done.//  
  
"You're all I have, Nerys," Des said, and Nerys clutched her heart.  
  
//Who does she think she is, making me care about her so much? I   
can't afford to love her; I've lost everyone I've ever  
loved, and I can't go through that again.//  
  
"Please, Nerys," Des spoke over a massive lump in her throat, her   
voice sounded strained, choked.  
  
//But you can still fight for her, Nerys,// she chastised herself.   
//Lupaza was right. I'm being such a jerk. I think  
losing my father is the end of the world? What about all the other   
civilian families I could fight for? What about Des? She  
needs me. I'm not going to let down the one person left in the world   
who I can care for.// "Okay," Nerys murmured. "Okay,  
Des." She untangled herself from Des' arms, stood, brushed herself   
off. Des stood beside her, took her hand and squeezed  
it.  
  
"You're okay?" Des couldn't contain the hope in her voice.  
  
"No," Nerys said. "I'm not okay. But what choice do I have? Lupaza   
was right; my life's not my own anymore."  
  
Des stroked Nerys' cheek, pulled her into a kiss. She tasted the salt   
of tears on Nerys' tongue, her cracked, musky skin of  
too many days without washing, too many days of sweat and hiding in   
bed. Des licked Nerys' cheek, raked a hand through her  
oily hair.  
  
"Okay," Nerys said. "Let's do it. Let's show those spoonheads we're   
not down yet!" She broke free of Des' embrace, went to  
wash and dress. //I won't love her,// Nerys told herself as she   
stripped of her pajamas, stepped into the shower. //I won't  
love anyone, ever again - there's too much to lose. But I won't let   
her die, not if I can help it. Not one more death under  
my watch.//  
  
*  
  
The resistance lost over a hundred soldiers at the raid on the   
capital. Matu. Herrin. Zabeth. More than a fifth of the Higa  
cel, and almost a quarter of the Shakaar. The place was a fortress;   
by the time Ari's troops had penetrated the perimeter  
the Cardassians had called in all the surrounding units, resulting in   
the bloodiest land battle since the Doyanpar raid  
nine years before.  
  
That night the soldiers went home in silence, defeated, miserable. No   
one spoke about it, but the loss at the capital  
resulted in an all time morale-low for the resistance. Kira didn't   
care. Kira didn't care about anything, anymore. Sitting  
around the fire with Gant and Shakaar she warmed her hands, stared   
blankly into space. //We kill them, they kill us. We  
kill them, they kill us. That's the way it is; that's the way it will   
be, world without end. But I will take care of you,  
Des. If nothing else, I will take care of you.//  
  
Five months later, during the attempt on the weapons base at Neela   
Pol, Naoma Deserrat was captured by a Cardassian scout,  
and was brought to their camp to be shipped to Terak Nor.  
  
_Bajor, Shonii Woods, 2364_  
  
On the cold ground of Shonii, in a building held together with spit   
and prayers, Lupaza pressed her body closer to Kira's  
and tried to ignore the rain. Kira squirmed and fidgeted.  
  
"ShhÉ" Lupaza whispered, her teeth chattering. "Stay still. If you   
want help we'll do this tomorrow. I am *not* coming with  
you tonight."  
  
"I can't just lay here and do nothing," Kira said. "She could be   
halfway to Terak Nor tomorrow."  
  
"And if you go outside," Lupaza muttered, trying to conserve energy,   
"you will catch a cold and be no use to yourself *or*  
the rest of us. Or Deserrat, for that matter. So you're staying here   
until the rain stops. I suggest you try and get some  
sleep."  
  
"Shh!" came Gant's voice from somewhere in the darkness. "I'm trying   
to sleep, and it's hard enough as it is, in this  
freezing wind. Please!"  
  
"Sorry," Kira said, and closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep.   
Sleep did not come. About an hour later, she untangled  
herself from a sleeping Lupaza, tucking the blankets closely around   
the older woman so that she wouldn't lose too much heat  
with Kira gone. The wind howled, chilled Kira bone-deep. She dragged   
a sweater over her head and stole gingerly toward the  
door, stepping over sleeping bodies as she went. She had pushed back   
the flap and was bracing herself for the pelting rain  
when a voice broke the silence.  
  
"You need help?"  
  
"UhÉ" Kira looked around, trying to identify the speaker in the dark.   
"No, I'mÉ"  
  
"Take a lantern, at least." It was Shakaar. Kira crept toward him,   
knelt beside his bedroll. "I assume you're headed for  
the Dalin Gatho. I think it's an idiotic risk, but I know how much   
she means to you. Understand, though, you'll be alone  
out there. The rest of the cel can't get involved in your personal   
act of valor. But be careful, kid. Take one of the  
lanterns from the brown road case, and take my disruptor. It's   
smaller than a phaser rifle, and you'll need that kind of  
maneuverability if they catch you up there. Glin Maho is not a gentle   
man, nor is Gul Keng. They guard that Dalin Gatho  
like it was a prison."  
  
"It is a prison," Kira spat.  
  
"It's all in how you look at things," Shakaar said. "When your best   
friend is held captive there, sure, it's a prison. But  
to Gul Keng, it's simply a nice big halfway house for folks who   
didn't fit on the Terak Nor transport shuttle." His voice  
dripped acid. Kira touched his shoulder.  
  
"Thanks," she said. "I'll take the lantern and the disruptor."  
  
She rose, rummaged in the road case and found what she was looking   
for. Strapping the lantern across her chest, she headed  
once more for the freezing, rainy, Shonii night.  
  
*  
  
The lights of the Dalin Gatho illuminated the trees, shimmered off   
the raindrops and wet leaves like so many fragments of  
shattered glass. Kira saw the warm blue glow of the Higa cel camp   
just across the river, and her heart sank. //Why her?//  
she thought, looking at the campsite, knowing that Deserrat wasn't   
there, sleeping peacefully with her cel mates. //I  
promised to protect you, Des, and I failed. Again. First my father,   
and now my - " Kira punched herself in the forehead.  
"Des. Scheduled for the Terak Nor transport tomorrow. Scheduled for   
*ore processing*. That girl wouldn't know how to  
process ore if she had a gun to her head!// Kira regretted the image   
almost instantly. //Hell, she needs *me* to show her  
how to pitch a tent, and I'm the least mechanically-inclined person I   
know!// Kira's eyes turned up the hill to the three  
building campus of the Dalin Gatho. Taking a deep breath, she started   
towards it.  
  
There were two lights on when she reached the campus. The main   
building, all gargoyles and columns and stone slab, stood  
between two smaller buildings, enclosed by a circular driveway, a   
shuttlepad, and a series of wrought-iron gates. Kira  
scaled the gates and leaped down into the campus, staying close to   
the ground. She reached the first light; a small room on  
the second floor of the east building. Taking her disruptor between   
her teeth, she slung her body up the wall, clawing to  
the protruding stone, and peered in.  
  
A Cardassian was crouched over, kneeling on a low bed. His head hung   
low, his oily hair hanging about his armored  
shoulders. He seemed to be rocking back and forth, his hips shaking.   
Kira pulled herself into the windowsill and pressed  
her face to the glass. And then nearly fell to the ground when she   
saw the scene inside. A Bajoran girl, no older than  
twelve, peered out from the side of the bed, her hands gripping the   
covers, her knuckles white. Tears streamed down her  
face as the guard on top of her continued to thrust, his heavy knees   
and chest pressed into her frail frame, his hot breath  
clouding her vision. Kira held her breath. His arms pinning her to   
the mattress, the guard threw his body into the girl's,  
over and over, a perverse grin painting his wide, gnarled, cavernous   
face. //Just don't think about it,// Kira willed the  
girl. //It will be over soon. Don't let him get to you,// she   
thought. Inside the room, the girl bit her lip and stifled a  
scream as the guard moaned with pleasure. Kira dropped from the   
windowsill and leaped into the grass, where she spat the  
bile that had collected in her mouth.  
  
The Dalin Gatho looked larger now, more ominous; tall shadows snaked   
the grass flickering from the warm green lights of the  
beacons inside. She shook her head, wrested the cobwebs free and   
surveyed the camp. //That other light must be the  
headquarters, or maybe the communications room...there's got to be   
some sort of all-night sentry in there. Okay. So there's  
one wing to avoid.// Looking from building to building, her stomach   
clenched. //Four more to go.//  
  
//Come on, Nerys - analyze!// she ordered herself as she slipped into   
an alley just off the main drive and leaned against  
the wall, regrouping. //The Dalin Gatho is a prison - no, it's a   
halfway house - hell, it used to be a *University*, for  
Prophets' sake! These old buildings used to seem so beautiful, so   
majestic... - get a grip. She's counting on you. Okay.  
This is where they keep prisoners before transport to Terak Nor or   
Empok Nor or any of those other stations - or to the  
camps, I guess, Pakar and Singha and those construction facilities   
down south...so how do they divide up the captives?  
Well, I imagine they keep some Bajorans as servants; they'd probably   
live in the main building. She won't be there; she's  
only been here half a week and she's probably going to be shipped out   
any day now -- the field house!// Kira clapped a hand  
to her forehead and almost smiled. //It's right next to the launching   
pad, it's not equipped for real habitation - they  
probably just toss all the Bajorans in there one day, and send 'em   
off on ships the next.//  
  
Her mind racing, she set off for the field house, her boots kicking   
up mud from the dewy grass. The field house was set  
apart from the main campus, a large, elliptical building honeycombed   
with - if it was anything like the University her  
father used to talk about - springball courts and wave pools around   
the big Parrises Squares Field. //Dumb game, Squares,//  
Kira thought. //I don't know why we chose *that* sport to borrow from   
the Federation. I'd have preferred hockey, or at  
least - what's it called? - jousting.// Kira reached the entrance.   
She crept up nervously, rapped her fingernails on a  
large frosted window. //Oh, smart, Nerys. Make them think there's   
some animal out here chittering at the door. Either a  
spoonhead'll throw a rock at you or some Bajoran will think you're a   
reimar and come shoot and eat you.// She knocked a  
little harder. Movement inside, some shuffling and murmuring gave her   
confidence, and she pulled herself up by her arms and  
pressed her face against the glass. Even through the tinting she   
could see shadows moving. //Cardassian guards?// She  
furrowed her brow. //They're too meticulous. They've got this place   
locked tight enough, and with enough alarms upon alarms  
to have to worry about stationing guards in here. Of course, even if   
I find Des, I won't be able to get her out without  
tripping one of a thousand possible alerts - " a figure came closer   
to the window, and Kira knocked again.  
  
"Hello?" she whispered. "It's the resistance, it's okay!" she said.   
//Okay. That's a lie. They're expecting a massive  
rescue now, and I'm going to take my girlfriend and leave the rest of   
them here to rot.// Kira regretted the thought upon  
thinking it, but fortunately the figure inside didn't seem to hear   
her, and moved past the window out of view.  
  
A door opened. Kira jumped. A tall Bajoran poked a head out and   
looked at Kira with glassy eyes. "Whatta you want?" he  
asked.  
  
"I'm with the resistance," she said, emboldened, approaching him.   
"I'm looking for a friend of mine, a woman named Naoma  
Deserrat."  
  
"Black hair?" he asked, eyeing her suspiciously. "Obnoxious?"  
  
Kira nodded, smiling.  
  
"Yeah, she's here. Hold on a second and I'll get her for you." The   
man disappeared inside, and the door clicked shut behind  
him, locking again. //That's strange,// Kira thought. //It locks from   
the *inside*?//  
  
The man had opened the door again, and this time Kira noticed the   
insignia on his wristlet, the three-flame flower of  
Cardassia. She bit her lip and steeled herself, terror shivering her   
bones. "She's coming," he said. "Just stay put."  
  
Kira nodded. //He'll go inside, and then...//  
  
"The resistance, you say, huh?" the man said, pulling his shirtsleeve   
over his wristlet idly and stepping out into the  
night. "You folks doing any good? We could certainly use a rescue   
here - is there one planned?"  
  
//Yes? or no? I don't know what to say, I don't know what this   
collaborator wants to hear...//  
  
"Not that I've heard," she said. "I'm just a...lackey, really. I   
don't really work for the resistance at all." //Wimp! I  
hate you I hate you I hate you!// She cursed herself.  
  
"'Zat so?" the man said, stepping closer to her. "Which cel is it   
that you don't really work for?"  
  
//If I move, he'll know I'm on to him. If I stay here, I'll get   
captured and thrown in there with Des and the rest of them.  
But I can't *not* answer this question...//  
  
"Kira cel," she said at last. //If I'm going to get in trouble, why   
bring the rest of 'em down with me?//  
  
"Haven't heard of that one," he said. "Who's your CO?"  
  
"A...a man named Kira Miko," she said. //Forgive me, Miko...//  
  
//Wrong move.// "Kira Miko, eh? Yeah, I knew him. He was in the   
Tibel-Kari at the Doyanpar raid. Last I heard he - "  
  
Kira spun on her heel, leapt to and over the fence and disappeared   
into the woods. Behind her she could hear klaxons  
blaring as the Dalin Gatho sprung to alert.  
  
*  
  
"You're sure they didn't follow you?" Shakaar asked again.  
  
"Positive," Kira said, still shivering, as Lupaza plyed her with   
coffee and a towel. "I programmed your disruptor for a  
steady power leak and I tossed it way the hell away from here. If   
they're looking for a signal, that's what they'll pick  
up."  
  
"So you've bought us some time," Shakaar said. "You've compromised   
our position and you've declared war against the Dalin  
Gatho, but, hey, at least you bought us a couple minutes!"  
  
His words stung. Kira looked away.  
  
Shakaar shook his head. "Well, let's get to it, then. If we're going   
to make a stand, it's happening now. Matu, Enith,  
cross the river and clue the Higa cel in on the situation. We'll need   
to coordinate efforts. Furel, take a team and  
penetrate those woods, set up as many false signals as you can. Maybe   
we'll get out of here before they find us. Kira,  
Lupaza, Gant, you're with me. We'll try and hold them off as long as   
possible here, with help from Higa's cel. Everyone  
else, head for the hills. We'll rendezvous at Jakoba Gulf at 0800. If   
we're not there..." Shakaar looked at his ragged army  
sadly, "report to General Ari that we've engaged the Dalin Gatho.   
They might as well start organizing raids now...and  
recovery parties."  
  
The cel broke off, nervous and furiously working. Shakaar touched   
Kira's shoulder.  
  
"I don't blame you for this, Nerys," he began. "Okay. That's not   
true. I do blame you for this, but I understand. I know  
she means a lot to you, and, honestly, if I were in your position,   
I'd have been as hell-bent on rescue as you were. But  
you have to be careful what you do here. Your life isn't your own   
anymore. You're a Captain in the Bajoran Militia, and  
that's a group that can't afford weak links. Next time - if, Prophets   
forbid, there should be a next time - plan a little  
better, huh?"  
  
Kira just nodded, knowing if she tried to speak all the shame, and   
guilt, and pain she felt towards Shakaar and the cel,  
and toward Des - poor Des - would come spilling out in a flood of weakness.  
  
Shakaar had turned away and was programming the sensor relay. Kira   
stood dumbly for a minute, then picked up a phaser rifle  
and took her place standing vigil outside the tent.  
  
*  
  
"That her?" Higa Mentar's version of a whisper cut the air like   
crackling slate. Kira moved just far enough away not to  
look like she was eavesdropping, but Higa's voice was hard to miss.  
  
"Yes. Captain Kira," Shakaar whispered in reply to the short woman   
beside him, and winked at Kira over her head.  
  
"Naoma talks about that girl non-stop. I don't see what all the fuss   
is about, frankly. She's a little skinny thing, huh?  
'Course, so's Des," Higa eyed Kira with a scowl, and Kira shuffled   
off to the tree where Klin and Kolla were crouched over  
a portable generator. Still, she cocked her head to listen to the   
conversation the two cel leaders were engaged in. //It's  
not really eavesdropping if they're talking about *me*, right?// Kira   
shook her head, grinning inwardly.  
  
"...at Gallitep," Shakaar was finishing.  
  
"How old did you say she was?"  
  
"Fourteen, then, do you believe it? She was [too quiet to hear]   
before anyone knew what was [too quiet to hear]," Shakaar  
laughed.  
  
"You're kidding," Higa said. "No wonder you let her off the hook so   
easily for getting us into *this* den of palakus! But I  
understand where you're coming from, Edon. They're like our children;   
if the positions were reversed and little Naoma went  
after that Kira in prison, I'd understand too."  
  
"Honestly, Tara, how are your troops doing? I know it's ben a rough   
year for you." Shakaar touched Higa's shoulder, and  
Kira looked away, trying to find something to do. She knelt beside   
Klin and fumbled with the dampening-field generator  
coils.  
  
"Oh, no worse than any other year, really. Better, if you consider   
the long-term implications of the Empok Nor victory and  
the Jeraddo evacuation. I wouldn't be surprised if we had control of   
half the southern continents within the next two  
years," she said.  
  
"How do you feel about the Federation's front line [too quiet to   
hear] and the plans to intervene?" Shakaar asked.  
  
//The damned Federation again,// Kira thought. //Just when we're   
getting this thing under control they're going to come in  
with their rules and directives and negate all the hard work we've done!//  
  
"To tell you the truth, I say more power to 'em," Higa said,   
cackling. "If they think they can do something to slow the  
spoonheads let 'em try. I'll take all the help we can get, at this point."  
  
"Even if they try and set up a base here, get us under their thumb?"   
Shakaar seemed wary.  
  
"Ah, they won't," Higa sounded confident. "Bajor doesn't have   
anything to offer the Federation save for some architecture  
innovations they've already 'borrowed' from us; they won't waste   
their time here. So let's use their resources to get back  
on our feet and then wave goodbye. I can't understand why they've got   
a stake in this war anyway - we're too far away from  
Terra to be a significant outpost for them, and we're peaceful, artsy   
folk, not diplomats or soldiers. If I were the  
Federation I'd stay far, far away..."  
  
"But they've been engaging the Cardassians all over the sector, and   
they're not always victorious. The Cardies must be  
putting up a fight against the Federation, too," Shakaar mused.  
  
"I don't get to hear much about galactic politics, these days," Higa   
agreed. "Maybe there's more going on up there than we  
know. Either way, I say bring in the Feds, clean this place up, and   
then let 'em deal with their own problems. Once the  
Cardies are out we'll have a ton of rebuilding to do all over this world."  
  
"You can say that again," Shakaar sighed.  
  
"But in answer to your question," Higa brightened, "my kids are doing   
wonderfully." She waggled her fingers at a couple of  
cel members who had just entered the camp, pushing a rusted, smoking   
land skimmer. Looking a little embarrased, they waved  
back.  
  
"My XO Duli Warin - there's a soldier for you! He's bright, and   
confident; a little cocky, maybe, but not a man to be  
trifled with. Sounds a bit like your Captain Kira, actually," Higa   
smiled. "Des, on the other hand; she's no soldier. She  
takes orders well but she's always got her nose in a book or her   
hands on a flight sim. console when I'm not telling her  
what to do. She was trained as a stunt pilot; did you know that?   
She's a performer, she likes to play. Damn, I wish she  
didn't have to be stuck here in this war zone. I don't blame Kira for   
wanting to rescue her - that girl won't survive on a  
mining station. She'll go mad or worse."  
  
"Then let's get moving. That skimmer might run; I say we meet Gul   
Keng before first light; we'll keep to the woods, we know  
this terrain better than they do, especially in the dark," Shakaar said.  
  
"All right then!" Higa said. "Yoo hoo, Warin!" she called, waving a   
hand. A stocky, bitter looking man rushed to her side.  
"Get the kids all tucked in and let's get out of here, what say?   
Organize strike teams of threes and fours, use the old Ko  
Ko Lira method and back up the folks in the skimmer. That'll be me   
and Edon...er, Shakaar, here, and a couple of his kids.  
Can you handle the rest?"  
  
"No problem," Duli saluted, and began organizing the troops.  
  
By her own demand ("I got us into this...den of palakus [sharp look   
from Higa at that], and I'm going to get us out!"),  
Kira took a place among the skimmer crew with Shakaar, Higa, and a   
Shakaar cel man named Ri Librum. The Shakaar and Higa  
strike teams took to the woods, and the skimmer launched, blowing   
bajor and wet leaves in its wake.  
  
*  
  
"Pull up, Nerys, we just want to buzz 'em on the first pass," Shakaar   
said, and Kira yanked at the controls and pulled the  
little ship up over the top of the Dalin Gatho's main building,   
rippling the grass beneath.  
  
Cardassian soldiers were rushing out of the doorways firing blindly   
into the sky, but the skimmer was flying blind in the  
dark pre-dawn, lights off, and they circled for another pass, getting   
several shots off in the process. The first line of  
strike teams - a la the Ko Ko Lira method - emerged from the woods in   
a clump, then scattered to surround the campus. Shots  
rang out, white and blue streaks of phaser fire ripped across the   
ground. The skimmer took a nosedive and dropped a couple  
thermals by the front door of the field house and it ignited,   
shattering. From the flames, hordes of Bajoran prisoners  
poured forth, to be ushered into the safety of the woods by the   
ground crew. The skimmer fired again, this time taking out  
the launch pad and the small hut that stood beside it.  
  
The second line of teams burst from the woods, leaping over bodies   
where they lay and forming a phalanx in front of the  
main building. The Cardassians were stymied. For all their warning   
they were caught off guard, and they ran around like  
voles in all directions, shooting at anything that moved, often one another.  
  
"Okay, let's set 'er down," Higa said. The skimmer took a steep dive   
and attempted to land on the driveway, but crossbeams  
of phaser fire ripped at the hull and Kira pulled up to avoid being   
burned to bits.  
  
"No, kid, not like that," Higa said. "Come in sidewise, keeping the   
port thrusters at half and firing across our hull. Let  
gravity take care of the rest, but mind you don't set us on fire first."  
  
Kira tried again, this time landing pitched 45 degrees to the right,   
and firing downward as she spiraled to the ground. All  
her shots missed, and she had to pull the skimmer clear again to   
avoid spinning out of control. Below, the strike teams  
were all in place and bodies were dropping right and left.  
  
"Damn it, kid, we don't have time for this!" Higa yelled over the   
din. "Sorry, Edon, but I'm taking the reins, here. Kira,  
you fly. Just fly. Leave the rest to me. Ri, you need to keep the   
port thruster hot enough to keep us from a tailspin, but  
not hot enough to ignite from our phaser fire. Edon, you remember the   
Rodowik massacre? Just like that. Take fore, I'll  
take aft, we'll blow these buggers up before they know what's hit 'em."  
  
A Cardassian skimmer had launched and was rising to meet the one Kira   
was piloting. "Hang on," she called as she tipped the  
vehicle violently to the right to avoid a collision. Shakaar got a   
few shots off as the ships passed one another, but the  
Cardassians had come around again and were right below Kira's ship,   
their blasts rumbling off her lower shields.  
  
The next pass wasn't even that lucky. A shot tore through their   
shields and shattered the windscreen. Kira ducked to avoid  
it, but it hit Ri squarely in the chest and he tumbled from the   
craft, sailed to the ground with a thunk. Higa had fired  
again, and the port thruster heat up like a kiln. "It's gonna blow!"   
Shakaar screamed, diving into the front seat to try  
and disengage power, but the controls were fused.  
  
"Land! Now!" he ordered Kira, and she pulled back on the throttle and   
cut the engines, and the ship plummeted bajorward.  
  
In a mad stroke of luck, the ship crashed into the facade of the main   
building, and the door blew open. More prisoners  
raced for freedom, the remaining members of Higa and Shakaar's cels   
gesturing to the woods, herding them clear of the  
battle zone.  
  
Kira, Higa and Shakaar leapt free of the ship and dove for safety   
before the tiny engines blew. The Dalin Gatho shuddered  
for a moment and then crumbled with a groundshaking boom. Kira   
covered her ears.  
  
"It's over!" Higa announced. "We liberated the place, best we could,   
anyway. We can't stay here. Get clear; we'll  
rendezvous at your camp in twenty minutes." She hurried over to join   
a team from her cel, and they beat the ground toward  
the woods. //For such a tiny person, she can sure run fast,// Kira   
thought as Shakaar dragged her by the arm.  
  
Passing the ruins of the field house Kira tossed it a look. //She got   
out,// she promised herself. //I did it. I got her  
out of there.//  
  
*  
  
There were bodies everywhere. Prisoners. Soldiers. Kira had tunnel   
vision; she crawled on the ground in the dim light of  
sunrise, questioning every medic she saw as to the whereabouts of her   
raven-haired love.  
  
"Haven't seen her. Hand me that tricorder, will you?"  
  
"Naoma? No, I haven't seen her among the slain or the living. Have   
you seen Kolla?"  
  
"Yeah, where *is* Naoma?"  
  
"Naoma, I don't know, but Matu here is going to die if we don't get   
him to an infirmary soon."  
  
"Black hair, you say? Hard to tell with all this blood, huh?"  
  
And then, there she was. A little pile of person with a shock of   
bloody black hair - //sticks, with a birds nest on top//  
Kira thought - curled up beside a heap of bodies dragged from the   
woods. Kira caught the lump in her throat. //She's dead.  
My arrogance. My fault. She's dead.// Hardly daring to think   
otherwise, she walked over.  
  
"Nerys!" Des croaked. "That was some damn good flying up there. When   
this war is over you and I will have to enter the  
Sector eight-one stunt flying competition at Railos Prime."  
  
Kira couldn't shake her smile as she dove to the ground beside Des,   
stroking her hair, squeezing her hand, smothering her  
with kisses. "Are you okay? Prophets, say you're okay!"  
  
"I'm okay, Nerys," Des smiled weakly. "Don't you worry."  
  
"Anything broken?" Nerys scanned Des' body but her uniform was so   
torn it was hard to tell which blood was her own and  
which belonged to the bodies she lay heaped against.  
  
"Don't think so," Des said. "Hey. You rescued me."  
  
"I nearly got us all killed, and jeopardized the confidence of two   
resistance cels in the process!" Kira shook her head.  
  
"For me?" Des asked coyly. "I'm touched."  
  
"Yeah, for you," Kira said, snuggling next to Des and laying a head   
on her shoulder.  
  
"Hey, Nerys?" Des reached up, stroked Kira's nose with a bloodied   
finger. "Remember when I said there were two things I  
wanted to do before I died?"  
  
"Mm hm..."  
  
"Well...one out of two ain't bad."  
  
"Which one?" Kira smiled.  
  
Deserrat's face grew serious. "You. Kira Nerys. Kira Nerys champion   
of the resistance. Warrior and strategist and lover  
extraordinaire. I love you, Nerys. I love you so much I can't think   
straight, most of the time. You are going to change  
this world; you are going to see Bajor into the next era. And I am so   
proud of you, and so, so glad I got the chance to  
know you..."  
  
Kira stared. "Why are you talking like this? Des, Des...you're fine.   
You and I will see this Occupation end; we'll have a  
home together, and a family in freedom. Just wait."  
  
Des just shook her head. Reaching spindly arms around Kira's neck,   
she pulled her into an embrace and kissed her on the  
cheek. When they parted, Kira felt the front of her uniform soaked   
through with blood. She touched Deserrat's chest, and  
pulled back as if burned. A phaser blast, as big around as her fist   
was eating away at Des's flesh, and her ribs were  
exposed and bloody.  
  
"You're not fine," Kira was incredulous. "Des...we've got to get you   
to a doctor - now!"  
  
Deserrat just smiled. "Triage, Nerys. They said I'd be too hard to   
save, better to save a couple of other soldiers then  
waste time on me. Everyone knows I'm not much of a soldier. The   
resistance doesn't need me."  
  
"*I* need you!" Kira's eyes were dry, and wide. She licked her lips,   
unable to comprehend what Deserrat was saying.  
  
"No, you don't. You don't need anyone. You're a hero, Nerys, and a   
soldier. Save our people."  
  
"Can't I save you?" Kira was almost begging. Deserrat's eyelids had   
begun to droop, and Kira squeezed her hand.  
  
"In the name of triage," Deserrat was muttering, "in the name of the   
resistance and Bajor, and in the name of the great war  
hero Kira Nerys, love of my life...I'm going to die. Now."  
  
"I love you, Des," Kira said, simply. //And it hurts like hell. I   
swore I'd never do it and I've done it and it hurts like  
hell. And I love you.// "I love you and I'll fight for you 'till   
there's nothing left in me."  
  
"Now," Des said again, and her face went blank. Kira stayed with her   
a long moment before laying Des's body on the ground  
and closing her eyelids with a finger. Then she rose and headed for   
the camp, not looking back though her world collapsed  
and her heart was breaking and darkness and fear closed in all around her.  
  
_Deep Space Nine, 2374_  
  
"Ju'ora'talbiethe, the music-makers!" Keiko said victoriously. "Well?   
What do you think, Nerys? I had the computer simulate  
Dakhur's windy season so we could hear the song; it's so beautiful,   
don't you think? They're an interesting breed, similar  
to the Terran tigerlily in shape, but with deep petals and long   
stamens more indicative of the cactus flowers from Bajor's  
more arid regions; as far as I can tell they only grow in Dakhur   
province, and when I saw them on the survey I just had  
to...Nerys? What's wrong?"  
  
Kira's face had gone ashen as she knelt beside the whistling flower.   
"He forgot to tell me," she said softly, "or he didn't  
want to." She sounded bitter. Keiko sat beside her, touched her shoulder.  
  
"Nerys? Are you all right?"  
  
Kira stood up, brushed herself off. She looked Keiko squarely in the   
eye and said, "my father loved these. But he forgot to  
tell me that after the windy season, when the song is done, they die."  
  
"Yes," Keiko nodded, "they do have a short lifespan, but that's   
common among arid-region biennials..."  
  
"They sing, and then they die," Kira said again. She tossed the   
flowers one last glance. "Keiko, thank you for bringing  
these. I needed to remember." She started for the exit, then paused.  
  
"Computer, end program," she said firmly.  
  
The End  



End file.
